Torn Souls
by Swing-Your-Razor-High
Summary: We know the story of the Elric brothers, right? Well what about Hohenheim and Dante's? The story of two alchemists, how they met and how they became corrupted. Rating may change. DanteHohenheim and TrishaHohenheim later on, not a big romance fic though.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first FMA fanfic, so I hope you like it. Sorry if I miss anything or get the information wrong, I'm just too lazy to look stuff up :) Thanks and please review!

CHAPTER ONE

"Hohenheim, are you ready yet?" a shrill voice called from the hallway. A young man lifted his head from the book he was reading when his name was called. The source of the voice entered the room with an annoyed look on her face. "I told you ten minutes ago that we would be leaving for the party soon. _Ten minutes_! Yet here you still sit like a little school child with your nose glued in a book. And you are not ready either!"

"Sorry, _mother_," the young man, Hohenheim by name, replied rather stiffly. The woman was, he was reluctant to admit, his mother. She was one of those people that looks like her aged face had never even allowed happiness to cross it and a mouth that never had anything pleasant to say to her son, her one and only son. At the moment her aged and sour face was lathered with makeup and her thin mouth painted a deep shade of maroon.

"Be ready within five minutes!" she snapped, and with that she turned heel and marched out of the room. Hohenheim sighed loudly and shut his book with a snap. Bad move on his part, for his mother heard his sigh and was back in a flash. "Listen here, you ungrateful boy, I am an old woman who would rather be doing a thousand different things than allowing her twenty two-year-old son to continue living in her home. I could very well toss you out into the streets any time I wish. However, you are the one who is going to marry into a good family and make us wealthy so we must keep you for the time being. Whilst you are here I suggest you remember who is giving you food, shelter, and clothing!"

"Yes, mother." He'd heard it all before. 'Hohenheim, you are the one who will marry into a wealthy family and share your wealth with your parents.' 'You are so ungrateful, Hohenheim!' 'You will never find a bride if you do not attend the parties.' It was all nonsense to his ears. Why should he be grateful to parents who raised him as though he was a demon or some other inhuman creature? They never loved him or said a kind word to him, so why in the world should he share his 'future wealth'?

"I wonder if Louisa tied that woman's corset too tight again," he muttered to himself as soon as his mother was gone again. He reluctantly set the book back down on his desk and stood up to stretch. It had been a good one too, full of the knowledge of alchemists from past centuries. Hohenheim loved alchemy and was often seen with his nose in some book relating to it. His parents and family thought it odd, for they did not see how alchemy could ever help him in the future. Still, he continued to study it and hoped to one day be so good at it that he wouldn't even need his spiteful parents.

"I have your clean party clothes, sir," a voice at the door said. It was Louisa, one of the house's twelve servants and Hohenheim's good friend. She was very young, around sixteen or seventeen, but cheerful and intelligent. At the moment her face looked stressed and several strands of her dark brown hair hung down fron under her white maid's cap. "Is the Lady yelling at you again? What'd you do this time?"

Hohenheim had grimaced when he took the clothes in his arms but managed a weak smile at her words. "'You still sit here like a little school child with your nose glued in a book!'"

Louisa smiled. She had a pretty smile which made Hohenheim often wonder why she was a maid and not a movie star. "You mustn't get on the Lady's nerves, especially not on party n-"

"Louisa! Come to my room at once!" the familiar voice screeched.

"Be right there, m'Lady!" With an apologetic smile she dashed out of the room and down the hallway to the impatient woman.

Hohenheim closed the door behind her then turned to the clothes that had been brought for him. He hated parties more than anything and was not looking forward to this one. Reason number one was the clothing which was always so stiff and itchy that it nearly drove him mad. Plus it was always warm in the party rooms and the clothes were guaranteed to cause one to become unbearably hot. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he was able to sneak away to the cool night air where he could take off the repulsive neck tie and breathe freely. Reason number two was the party itself. There was ALWAYS someone new to be introduced to and ALWAYS someone who would refuse to leave your side the rest of the night. Hohenheim was unfortunate enough to be blessed with good looks, so giggly young women were constantly at his side begging him to dance.

"'Oh Hohenheim, you're such a gentleman!'" he mimicked in a high-pitched voice as he undressed and enjoyed the last bit of comfort his body would have until quite a few hours later. Women as giggly and snobbish as the ones he always met at parties were enough to give him a headache. And even if they kept quiet the nauseating smell of their perfume would certainly do the trick. Oh how he loathed parties! At times he wish he could strip down to his underwear and dash about the room. Then maybe his parents would finally disown him and send him someplace far far away. But of course he knew this couldn't happen, for until he found a wife he needed a home, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

"Hohenheim!" came the infamous voice of the household. The young man hastily ran a brush through his long dirty blonde hair then tied it back neatly with a hair cord. The clothing was already starting to make him itch. Not a good sign. With one last look at himself in the mirror he then dashed out of the room and down the stairs to wear his impatient parents waited. It was time for the party, and he was absolutely dreading it.

A/N: Sorry it's so short, but I hope you like it. I'll try and get the next chapter up soon, but please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry about the delay, but I hope you're enjoying this. Please forgive any errors I make! The setting is in the 15th century, btw.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own FMA or anything to do with it :reluctantly sets Edward down:

CHAPTER TWO

Hohenheim gazed out the window of the carriage and looked longingly at the fields glowing in the twilight hour. He was glad for the change of scenery and wished with all his might he could just lie down in those fields forever. The carriage gave a slight jerk and Hohenheim had to pull his head back away from the glass to prevent his nose from getting bumped.

"Sit up straight and quit staring out the window," his father barked. Hohenheim's parents sat across from him in the carriage and at the moment their cold eyes were narrowed at their son. His father was a proud man with a lockjaw and an unhappy face similar to his wife's. He did not tell Hohenheim off as much, but he was just as disgusted with his son as his wife was.

"Don't you think the fields look lovely tonight, father?" Hohenheim asked politely, but his parents merely scoffed and turned their noses up. _Only they can make a beautiful sight seem as gruesome as a battlefield full of carnage_, he thought to himself, shifting his eyes towards the window once more to admire the sight.

They arrived at the party soon after this event. _Too soon_, Hohenheim thought. He followed his parents reluctantly up the stairs of the great house, eyes down and already wanting to go home. The three were greeted by an uptight butler who took their hats and coats for them then escorted them into the party hall. His parents were immediately hailed by old friends and in no time they were in so deep discussion that he slipped away unnoticed.

"Hohenheim! Hohenheim!" a high-pitched voice called. Sighing heavily when he realized his chance of escape had just run out the door, he turned around to see who was calling him. It was, of course, a young woman with large blue eyes, blonde curls, and a light purple dress with frills. Her face lit up like a candle when he looked at her. "I am so glad that you came tonight."

"H-have we met?" he asked uncertainly.

The girl's face fell at these words. "Do you not remember me?" The honest answer was, of course, "no." Hohenheim could no sooner remember all the girls he had met at parties than count them. He had to take a guess so as to not hurt her feelings.

_Let's see…Anna? No, Belladonna….no….Katrina! Oh wait, she was the one with the inferiority complex….uhh…Sophia? Yes, that's it!_ "Sophia!" he said finally, putting on his best smile.

"Victoria."

"Ah yes, Victoria," Hohenheim echoed, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. She smiled sweetly and grabbed his hand. Against his will he found himself being dragged over to a group of gossiping young women who turned out to be Victoria's friends. As the ladies swooned and pile-drove him with questions, Hohenheim's mind began to wander as it always did on such occasions. His hand reached inside his shirt pocket and what was in there gave him an idea.

"Could you young ladies excuse me for a moment? All this talking has made me hungry." Before any of them could request to accompany him he was already halfway across the room to the food table. Once there, he looked around carefully. _Good, no one's looking. _Grinning, his hand went once again into his pocket and pulled out a book. It was none other than the one he had been reading earlier. He had discovered this trick a few years back during an especially boring party. People looking over would see him standing there and think that he was just trying to decide what to eat when in reality he was reading a book. _Pure genius_, he thought as he turned the page of his book.

"If I were you, I'd try standing in front of the tapestry over there to read," a voice said calmly, causing Hohenheim's heart to plummet several feet. He looked up hastily to see who had spoken and found that it was another young woman, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. She was dressing in a sky blue dress and her long brown hair was wavy and fell across her shoulders. Even by Hohenheim's tough standards she was pretty and he immediately stood up a little straighter. Her dark blue eyes flickered to him and her crimson lips curved upward. "The tapestry has words on it, so people will just think that you are reading them and not a book."

"Alright, th-thanks," he answered. He turned his back to her and began to walk towards the tapestry she had told him about. Sure enough, it was covered in words of some famous speech made years ago. When he looked back to see if she was watching him he was surprised to see that she was gone. _Too bad, she was really pretty_. Shrugging slightly, he turned to the tapestry then resumed reading his book.

"Hohenheim!" a deep voice called after a while. After hastily stowing the book back into his pocket, he turned around to see his father striding towards him. "Come with me, we found you another suitor."

He groaned inwardly. "Another one?"

"Do not make me repeat myself! Come along and meet her."

"Hohenheim, meet Ms. Dante von Dortington," his mother said in a rather proud voice as though she was certain that this one would be a hit. Hohenheim was surprised to see that she was the last person he was expecting to see. It was none other than the girl who had given him the advice about the tapestry earlier. She smiled at him at he stared dumbfounded at her.

"Dante, this is Hohenheim, our only son and heir to the family fortune," Hohenheim's father explained.

"Go on, Dante, go dance with him!" the girl's mother encouraged. Her father nodded in approval, and so she had no choice but to take the surprised Hohenheim by the hand and lead him to the dance floor.

"I'm glad that they made us dance," Dante whispered as they began to dance about to the music "now I have a chance to talk to you about that book you were reading. It was an alchemy book, was it not? You are interested in alchemy, which is a good thing, because I am too."

A/N: I'll leave it there for now, but it will continue ASAP. Please let me know what you thought and if there's anything I need to improve on, please tell me! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I got stuck on what to write next for a while. Please enjoy!

Chapter Three

"Won't they notice that we're missing?" Hohenheim asked uncertainly as he and Dante edged their way out of the ballroom and into the hallway.

"They can never prove that we were gone," she replied, a rather mischievous grin playing at her lips. "Besides, if we stay in that room any longer I think I may just pass out from the heat."

"True." He had agreed to come with her outside almost as soon as she told him that she too was a scholar of alchemy. Plus he simply could not bear the sweltering heat and the ever tightening collar that threatened to strangle him any minute. As soon as they passed through the doors and into the cool breeze of the night, Hohenheim wrenched the tie from his neck and took a free breath of air.

"I guess you were suffering much more than I with that collar?"

"Perhaps, mother has yet to force me into a corset so I can hardly compare the two." The two were silent for long while as they enjoyed the relieving breeze and the comforting silence that the night had to offer. Finally, Hohenheim broke the silence by asking "So how long have you studied alchemy?"

"Ever since I managed to get my hands on a book at the age of twelve," was the answer. From the idle look on Dante's face she did not seem the least bit accomplished about her feat. He might have even said she looked ashamed.

"Do you not take pride in your work?"

"Of course I do, it's just…." Once again the look of discomfort crossed her beautiful features. "I am not sure how to explain it, but….but I feel as though I can study it all my life, but what will it ever achieve? What can I possibly gain by it if my parents never let me out into the world on my own?"

"Your parents know about your studies?"

"No. If I did tell them then they would more than likely disown me or sell me to the brothel. That is why parents should not be entrusted with secrets, for some secrets just are not meant to be revealed. They wanted a beautiful and intelligent child, and that is just what they got." At this point she allowed herself a small laugh and tossed her long brown locks behind her. "But that child also came with a rather unwanted feature: stubbornness."

Hohenheim also chuckled a bit at this. "So did I. Turns out I am everything that my parents had hoped I would not be."

Danted smiled and continued on. "For as long as I can remember I have always been cleverer than my parents. In fact, when I was a little girl I was able to escape from my locked room so often that they thought me to be a witch. This was proved wrong when they hired a much more intelligent locksmith to fix all the openings in my room so that there was no way I could get out. The only times I was let out were for parties, meals, and trips to the houses of suitors or relatives."

"So you lived almost all your life in a prison on the account of your parents," Hohenheim finished.

"I suppose you could put it like that," she said with a shrug.

"I know exactly how you feel. Loving alchemy yet never able to share it with anyone…living trapped like an animal in your own home…it's so strange, I never thought I would ever meet someone who shares my feelings."

"Perhaps we are just meant for each other," Dante suggested, and the two looked at each other and smiled.

"That must be it…" The silence returned, though somewhat awkward this time. Hohenheim gazed for a long time at the fountain in the middle of the garden while Dante stared down at her hands. "You should come over for tea tomorrow…I would be happy to share with you my knowledge of the science."

"That would be nice…and considering our parents are hoping that we fall for each other there will be no doubt that they shall let us."

"We ought to go back now before they start raising questions as to where we are," he muttered, though half-heartedly for he was not looking forward to going back at all.

"Thank you for speaking with me, I have never been able to be so open with someone before."

"Your welcome." After one last exchange of smiles, the two headed rather reluctantly back to the hellhole called a party.

A/N: Sorry it was short, maybe if you're lucky the next chapter will be longer. Ummm…the story line will probably be advancing further soon. Hope you liked this, please review!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry about the wait, I kind of got stuck on what to write next. Please tell me about factual errors and I'll do my best to correct them!

CHAPTER FOUR

Hohenheim collapsed right onto his bed as soon as he was in his room. True, Dante had made the party a little more enjoyable for him, but it still wore him out as did every other time. Rolling over onto his back, he gazed up at the ceiling, thinking only about Dante.

_"If we combine our research I am almost certain that we will be able to accomplish anything," she said as they prepared to part ways previously that evening._

_"What is it exactly that you desire from alchemy?" he questioned as one of the butlers stiffly handed him his jacket._

_Dante merely smiled and began to nonchalantly button up her coat. "That remains to be seen. I will see you tomorrow for tea. Good evening." And with that, she turned and walked away after her parents so quickly that Hohenheim didn't even get to say good-bye._

"I do wonder about you, Miss Dante," he murmured to himself in the present as he watched a tiny spider crawl about the ceiling.

"And you make me wonder, Mr. Hohenheim," another voice said, causing Hohenheim to jump up to a sitting position on his bed. Louisa stood in the doorway, balancing a stack of towels haphazardly in her arms and giving him a look of pure curiosity. "Whomever were you talking to?"

"Just myself." was the answer, followed closely by a relieved sigh. He had been afraid that his mother decided to pay him an unfriendly visit before bedtime. Louisa smiled and hastily carried the towels over to the table outside his washroom. After straightening then to perfection so that they wouldn't fall, she turned back to him.

"The Lord and Lady have already gone to sleep," she explained, going about the room and doing last minute chores before he went to bed "though it took longer than usual today. They were in deep conversation about a girl named Dante. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, I met her today at the party," he explained, taking his shoes off his aching feet while wondering what his parents might be plotting now. "What did they say about her?"

"'This one is a fine catch, he is sure to marry her.'" Louisa recited perfectly, evening getting the tone of his mother down right. Hohenheim had to laugh. After spending so much time with his mother yelling constantly at her, no wonder she'd picked up on how to mimic her. "'She is a beautiful and intelligent young woman with a respected backround, not to mention her wealthy family as well.' You would think she was a goddess from the way they carried on about her."

"Well, she certainly looks it," he said, still chuckling to himself. Good old Louisa, she was always good as a spy. "She told me that she has been studying alchemy for quite some time too. I must say, I'm impressed with the fact that she has been studying it since she was twelve. It's quite an amazing feat, actually. Oh, and she's coming over for tea tomorrow so you will get a chance to meet her. Trust me, after you see her, you won't doubt-"

"Alright alright, she's amazing, I get it!" Louisa interrupted, laughing as Hohenheim went red when he realized his ramblings. "I'll be sure to look my best and be friendly to her. Good night, sir!" And she exited the room, still giggling quietly to herself.

The next morning, Hohenheim was up before the sun, pouring over books for a topic to discuss with Dante. There was so much he wanted to tell her, and yet so much he needed to ask. All of it was pounding inside of his head, wanting to be heard, and before he knew it he had a headache. Louisa came in a little while after the sun had risen to bring him a tray of breakfast.

"Goodness Hohenheim, I just cleaned up last night!" she said in exasperation as her eyes landed upon the mess he had made of his alchemy books. With her hands on her hips, she walked over and bent down to pick one up. The corner of one of the pages had been folded down, so she flipped to that page and began to read. "'Human Transmutation: How a-' what's that word?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at it. "Huh-mun-coo-luss?" she pronounced slowly.

"Homunculus," he said for her, picking up a few of the discarded books on the floor and putting them back on the shelf. "It says that it's an artificial human, but despite the title, it doesn't elaborate on how to make one. That's one of the questions I want to ask Dante, so I flipped the page down in order to find it again."

"An artifical human?" she repeated skeptically. "Sounds like a fairy tale to me. Anyway, I have to go attend to the Lord and Lady now. Eat your breakfast and I'll come back for the tray later." She handed him the book back, then turned and walked out of the room. Hohenheim stared after her for a moment before looking down at the page.

"A fairy tale, huh? Maybe that's all a homunculus is. Still, I won't know for sure until I talk to Dante. Surely she will know what's a fairy tale and what isn't."

A/N: Sorry if it was too short or if I didn't explain enough here. I'm just feeling tired today. Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I've been obsessed with making videos and fanfic writing has been pushed off my to-do list x.x Anyway, I'm going to do my best to continue this one. Please let me know how I'm doing!

CHAPTER FIVE

Dante set one elegant foot out of the carriage and onto the gravel driveway, but paused before having the other follow. Her radiant eyes gazed up at the mansion, crucially surveying every detail. As she stared without blinking up at it, her footman examined her expression nervously. He had always believed that the young woman had a very strong aura about her, almost a demonic one that seemed to freeze the very air that surrounded her. Being a rather superstitious man, he'd always made sure to give her a wide berth whenever possible. This was one of those times when he decided that his comfort was of higher priority at the moment than his job. Backing away a few feet from her, he cautiously yet politely questioned "Ms. Dante?"

"Nothing," she replied smoothly, breaking out of her trance and lowering herself to the ground. "It's a beautiful house, wouldn't you agree, sir?" Her eyes wandered over to where the footman stood and captivated his own. The poor man could almost swear she did this for her own amusement.

"I shall go to park the carriage now, madam," he said with a small bow. Dante nodded then turned and walked up the stairs towards the house. As the footman climbed into the driver's seat, he watched her go. "On my next visit to town, I shall visit the local physician. That girl is clearly going to be the death of me."

"Welcome to our home, Ms. Dante," Hohenheim's mother greeted in an almost warm manner, as though she actually welcomed people to her home every day.

"Dear Lord and Lady, I kindly thank you for this extravagant invitation to your beautiful house," Dante replied in tones overflowing with careful respect and flattery. Hohenheim stood next to his parents, once again struck by the girl's beauty and clever speech. He was certain that if he ever spoke that way to his parents they would immediately call for the doctor.

"Lady Dante," he said, taking her pale hand and kissing it gently. She smiled what appeared to be a genuine smile down at him before returning his greeting with "Sir Hohenheim."

"Tea has been set out on the veranda, do be sure to call upon any of our servants should you desire anything," Hohenheim's father called to Dante as she took his son's arm and followed him down the hall.

"Of course, you have my gratitude, kind sir," she called back. Once out of earshot of his parents, she leaned into Hohenheim and whispered "Did you know, there are engravings depicting early century alchemists on the stone of your house?"

He looked at her in shock. Her tone, even the look on her face; they seemed…eager, almost excited. "I had examined those myself once upon a time. In fact, they attribute to my thirst for alchemic knowledge."

"Then I shall attribute as well." The eager look on her face seemed to have only amplified with his latter statement. "Oh my darling Hohenheim, there is so much I wish to ask you. And surely there are questions that you have for me as well. So many questions…oh where to start!" He almost laughed. She had completely abandoned the cool attitude that he was familiar with and adopted this new one of sheer excitement. It was comical that such a woman could go from calm to eager in a heartbeat.

"Let us discuss it all over tea," he said, and without another word led her out onto the veranda behind the house. He pulled her chair out for her to sit down before going to his own chair to sit down. The two sat in silence for a moment as they prepared their tea as they saw fit. Dante did not touch the sugar, but simply added a little mint before stirring it carefully and taking a sip. "You are the first I have met to add mint to tea," Hohenheim pointed out, breaking the silence.

"Sugar does not sit well with my tastes, mint is much better," she explained, smiling true once again. "As a child I once put too much sugar in, and you can imagine. I have never once put it in my tea again."

"I just prefer one cube of sugar. It dissolves easily within the tea, leaving a rather nice taste behind."

Her eyes studied him for a moment. "You really should try mint leaves. They add just as good a taste, but instead of dissolving they remain in the cup until the tea is gone. Unless, of course, you drink them first."

"But they would dissolve, eventually, if you left them for long enough," he pointed out. "After all, there are few weak things such as mint leaves that can stand up to liquid for too long." The silence came back as the two resumed drinking their tea. After a while, Hohenheim decided to break the silence. "Tell me, Dante, have you ever come across, in your studies of alchemy, something called a homunculus."

She smiled. "I was going to ask you the very same question. It was a very important question also that I so dearly hope you would have an answer to. I have, of course, come across the term however it was only the definition of the word that I managed to find. Clearly alchemists have advised strongly against it and have hidden what they know from the generations to come. A forbidden practice…does it not sound so…inviting?" As she said this last word, a dark yet clearly excited look crossed her beautiful features, sending chills down Hohenheim's spine.

"Shall we look into this?" he asked, standing up suddenly in order to avoid these newfound chills. "There is a way out through the gardens, and I am sure that my parents will not be troubled terribly about our absence. There is a small store in town filled with alchemy books. We should begin our search there."

"Very well," Dante replied, getting to her feet as well, though the look on her face had changed only slightly. Hohenheim offered her his arm and the two set off across the garden towards the back gate. Left on the table were their two cups, both with small mint leaves floating in almost empty cups.

A/N: Was it too short? Too boring? Too much dialogue? Not enough information? Please let me know what you think, and I will try to post the next chapter ASAP!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for all your reviews, and please, keep them coming! Believe it or not I do read all my reviews. Don't be afraid to criticize, because I do want to know what things need improvement.

CHAPTER SIX

The truth was ever so close, Hohenheim could feel it. Like a light in the distance that he was always reaching out to grasp, only to have it slip easily through his fingers. It was an elusive truth that taunted his brain, urging him forward like a small child asking to play hide and go seek. As he continued to scan page after page of the ancient book, he could hear that nagging question echoing through his head. It was as though it had its own laughter and voice saying "Come now, Hohenheim dear, you can do better than that!"

He and Dante had been sitting in that same section of the library for much more than an hour, looking through countless alchemy books for those two questions: What is a homunculus and how is it made? The library was a very old place with a miasma of dust and battered volumes of various topics crowding its shelves. Very few people came here nowadays, save for the occasional scholar or even a child who had meandered in on accident. This was just fine for the two alchemists, for the fewer people who knew what they were researching the better. The corner of the library they were in was devoted to sciences of all sorts, including alchemy. People knew little about science, but there were the precious few who had chosen to explore the ways of the world and written their knowledge down for others' benefit as well as their own. And so, it was in this section that they sat next to piles of books, looking diligently for their desired topic.

Hohenheim could feel his attention wandering away from the goal at hand. He just couldn't help it. The words that his eyes ran across were long, difficult, and bound to give anyone a headache after an hour of reading them ceaselessly. Instead, he directed his gaze to the one thing in the place that was not old and battered: Dante. Her brow was furrowed as she scanned the pages with eyes bright with knowing and determination. She sat in an erect position against the wall, as all well-bred woman of the time sat. He stared at her for a while, grateful for this fortunate opportunity, and examined every detail of her body. The urge to suddenly stop research and just be with her struck him. Natural feelings for women had passed Hohenheim by when puberty came around as a teenager. His parents had seen to it that he was kept away from members of the opposite sex so that he would not have a chance to fall in love until a rich wife was found for him. Now these feelings and urges were waking up his body and telling him to do things that he wouldn't dare say aloud. After all, he was a man, and Dante was indeed a woman.

"Something wrong, Hohenheim darling?" she asked, her eyes suddenly tearing themselves away from the book to examine the expression on his face.

"My eyes wished to abandon tedious words and rest themselves on something beautiful," he said smoothly, causing her to blink in surprise and go a little pink.

"Nevertheless," she replied after she had composed herself "we must continue to search until we find information. I know that it is dull, but if we ever want to figure this out, we must push ourselves."

"Of course." His newfound urges would have to be ignored for the time being. After all, knowledge was something that he considered to be much more important than desire. Tearing his eyes away from her, he closed the book on his lap, deposited it on top of the stack beside him and pulled a new one out from the shelf. This happened to be one of those rare books that held an answer of another question he'd be itching to know. Excited, he picked up a piece of parchment and a quill and hastily scribbled down his discovery. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dante look up hopefully.

"Did you find it?" she asked with cautious excitement.

"No, just an answer to one of the questions I was going to ask you," he replied. She nodded carefully then returned to the book. This was the third time that this had happened, so she had prepared herself for disappointment.

Three books later, Hohenheim found his heart racing. The words 'Human Transmutation' shone in bold on the cover of the book. Forcing himself to keep calm, he hastily paged through to the glossary. Sure enough, there under the H section was the desired word: homunculus. Not wanting to get his or Dante's hopes up, he casually flipped to the appointed page and began to read.

"This is it!" he announced. Dante rushed to his side immediately to read over his shoulder.

"'A homunculus, or artificial human, is the result of an alchemist's failure of human transmutation. This being is both without a soul and unfeeling. It is not the person whom the alchemist attempted to bring back, but a monster that takes on the shape of who they were meant to become. If fed sufficient amounts of a vital energy source, these creatures may obtain a definite shape as well as certain powers, making them deadly adversaries. Human transmutation has long been a forbidden practice and the creation of a homunculus is forbidden as well. To create a homunculus, an alchemist must first-'" Here Dante stopped and frowned at the page.

"It's all been blotted out…with blood," Hohenheim murmured, tracing his finger acrossed the stained page. "Not just one word either, the entire rest of the page." He flipped to the next two pages. "These have been covered too…but why?"

"'Human transmutation has long been a forbidden practice and the creation of a homunculus is forbidden as well,'" Dante read again. "Clearly someone does not wish to share this knowledge with us. However," her hand reached into her shoe and pulled out a small piece of chalk "this person forgot something very important." She cleared away a space of the floor and began to draw a circle.

"A transmutation circle…I get it," Hohenheim observed. "You're going to transmute the blood away somehow."

Dante nodded, though did not look up from her drawing. "If I can remove the blood from the page and then form the ink back into its original shape, we will be able to read it." The circle was completed and the book was laid gently down into the middle. She put her elbows out, held her hands in vertical positions, clapped them together then put them down onto the edge of the circle. There was a blue glow and Hohenheim watched in amazement as the blood was siphoned off the book and the ink shaped itself once more into words.

"Astounding," he said once the process was over. "I myself have only tried simple experiments with a circle."

"Let us continue reading." She picked up the book and held it up so that they both could read it.

"So that is how it's done," Hohenheim murmured thoughtfully after a while.

"Intriguing," Dante whispered, and he saw once more that she had that eager, almost hungry look in her eyes again. Now that she was armed with this knowledge, who knew what would happen. "All my theories on how to do it were wrong. Very wrong." She stroked her hair thoughtfully. "Let us take this book home, we need its information."

"We cannot steal a book from the library," he objected.

Dante merely smiled and shook her head. "Honestly, do you believe that anyone will care? That anyone will miss it? This library is barely visited anymore. We are almost obliged to take a book from it." Hohenheim opened his mouth to object, but realized that arguing with her was most likely in vain. Sighing, he only shook his head and waved his hand in defeat.

"Very well, we should be getting back now. I doubt my parents will be very happy if we stay away for much longer." Dante handed him the book and he stowed it away under his vest. After taking her hand, he quietly led her out of the library and into the oncoming twilight hour.

A/N: Alright, you know the drill: tell me what you liked/didn't like/think needs improvement/errors/etc. I'll be happy to hear from everyone!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So I'm watching Tsubasa, and I realize that about half the voice cast is in FMA. Seriously, there's Lust, Armstrong, Dante, and Ed. Dante does Sakura's voice, and man is that WEIRD. Her voice is so….high x.x Same with Lust! Ack, voice actors confuse me. Alrighty, I'm done sharing that w/ u, on to the chapter!

CHAPTER SEVEN

Just as had happened the night before, Hohenheim collapsed onto his bed with an exhausted sigh. He gazed once more up at the ceiling, replaying the evening's events over and over in his mind as though he hoped they would be engraved there forever.

_"We must get together again, Hohenheim darling," Dante said to him as she prepared to leave. Thankfully, neither of his parents had noticed their long absence and said not a word of it when they faced them upon their return. The twilight hour still lingered across the sky as the two young people stood outside the house, saying their goodbyes. "Read through that book and see what all you can find about Human Transmutation and such."_

_"Of course. Let us make our time away from each other brief then," he replied, smiling in spite of his agitated thoughts that he and Dante had to part._

_"Very brief," she murmured. Then, to his utter surprise, she kissed him. This was not merely a good-bye kiss, as one would do on the cheek when they parted. It was a passionate one, on the mouth, that shocked Hohenheim so much that he staggered backwards. He had never kissed anyone before, and had absolutely no idea what to do now that Dante's lips were on his. Did he dare close his lips over hers? Would she pull away in disgust if he did so? His heart beat a tattoo against his chest as she pressed against him, still lost in the kiss. And then, just when he thought that he might explode from confusion and newfound desire, she broke away. No where on her face did it say she was ashamed of what she had just done. Despite from being slightly pink, she was as calm and collected as usual. "I take my leave of you."_

_And she got into the carriage. When Hohenheim finally came to his senses, the carriage was halfway down the road. "Good-bye…Dante…"_

"Dante," he whispered into the darkness. The feelings of passion and desire had still not left him, even though the kiss had happened hours ago. All through dinner, and his attempted studies in the library, these feelings remained plastered to him. He could not stop thinking about it. The only ones who kissed each other like that were married couples, so why would she go and do something like that? This question nagged him worse than any alchemy-related one. And now he was feeling it again. That very uncomfortable and new feeling in the down below area. He still was not quite sure what it was, but it did embarrass him, even if no one was around to see it. Sighing once more, he got up from the bed and changed into his night clothes. Laying back down he closed his eyes and tried to keep every little thought of Dante from his mind.

Meanwhile, Dante was also preparing to go to bed, but was not as anxious as Hohenheim. True, he body also burned with desire for him, and she was highly amused by the look on his face when she spontaneously kissed him out of passion earlier, but she had more experience with these feelings than Hohenheim did. After all, he was not her first lover. As she ran a brush through her long brown hair while sitting at her desk, several small trinkets glittered in the candle light across the desk's surface. They were things such as necklaces, lockets, rings, bracelets, love letters, and a richly engraved music box. Trinkets were all that were left from her broken-hearted lovers. For years her parents had been trying to find her a suitable husband, resulting in what Dante liked to playfully call "the love game."

What would happen in this so-called "game" was this; get the man to fall in love with you, test him to see if he is the one you are looking for, and if he fails then away he goes. Some might call it cruel and unusual, but not Dante. This was the kind of thing she did for fun in her life. Men, in her opinion, were no more important than the very horses that pulled the carriages. However, she was coming to realize that Hohenheim, perhaps, might be different from all the rest. He did bring to her a feeling that only one other man had brought before.

"He is an alchemist just like me, and shares so much in common with myself. Perhaps he is the one," she mused quietly. "But then again, _he_ was very special too." Sighing, her fingers closed around the key to a small music box and twisted it. The pretty music cut through the silence of her bedroom, bringing back nostalgic memories of when she was a teenager. The man who had given it to her was a devoted scientist by the name of Jonathon. At the time, Dante was fourteen years old and he nineteen. Her parents were the ones who had chosen him for her, urging her to marry him because of his wealthy back round and good looks.

She had been very stubborn about meeting him at first, even going so far as to plummet out the window rather than make his acquaintance. In the end, she found herself stepping into the hall in a new pink dress and allowing him to kiss her hand. Having read all sorts of romance novels and being rather naïve at that age, she fell in love at once. The weeks went by and the two drew even closer. By the end of the month, both had agreed to the marriage, and plans were made. Dante was very excited for her wedding, despite her young age, and hoped that the time would pass quickly so that they could be married as soon as possible. She saw reality too much in the light of the fairy tales that she read. Nearly a fortnight before the wedding, Jonathon fell ill. None of the doctors could quite figure out what to do, and he soon passed away. Dante, stricken with grief, had no idea what to make of this. She sat looking out the window in her room for weeks after the funeral with the wedding dress on her lap and her eyes glazed over. It was months before she found the will to get over the death and move on in life. But she never forgot Jonathon, and always played the music box he had given her.

After him, there had been six more: Vincent, Edward, Victor, Samuel, Philip, and Henry. They were the ones she merely played with, and none of them made her feel the way Jonathon did. She broke their hearts and sent them away with nothing but the phantom memory of her beautiful lips. Still, Hohenheim was definitely different from them all, and brought to her a warm feeling, just like Jonathon did. As the music from the box died down, the room was once again filled with silence. A maid came in briefly to put a fresh heating pan under the mattress, but that was about it. Having nothing more to accomplish, Dante got up from her desk and laid down to sleep, hoping that sleep would bring her visions of Hohenheim.

A/N: Alright, I think I've said all I need to in this chapter. Please let me know what you thought!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you all once more for the reviews, I'm always happy to hear from my readers! ) Alright, I don't have anything else to say, so here's the chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A large vein of lightning stretched itself across the dark sky, like a hand reaching out to the unobtainable, illuminating the earth briefly with its eerie blue light. The thunder boomed out loudly in its wake, sending animals back to the safety of their burrows and small children into the arms of their mothers. Such a storm was bound to send any person indoors. Yet this man was not afraid of the rain or the boisterous thunder. On the contrary, he was actually quite grateful for it all. Despite this fact, he was as sane as the next man, if not a little reckless. Then again, are not all people on the run reckless?

Lightning flashed once more and the man clutched the large bundle in his arms tighter, all the while leaning against a brick building. Shouts of men could be heard even over the caterwaul of the storm. They were searching, searching for him. It was not him they wanted, however, for he had committed no crime. No, it was what lay inside the bag in his arms that they were after. The great secret that he held to his chest and out of the rain was their goal, their prize. He strained his ears to listen to his hunters. They would find him soon if he did not make a run for it.

"The train is my only hope," he murmured to himself, his voice getting drowned out by another loud clap of thunder. After closing his eyes and praying silently for a few moments, he then took a deep breath and darted down the street. Being a tall man, he ran quickly on long legs and soon could no longer hear the shouts. As he made his way through the town and the rain, he felt his breath coming harder and harder. A stitch tore at his side as though someone had stuck a knife there, and rain kept getting in his eyes, half blinding him. On he sped, as though mad, towards his destination. He was a man running for his life.

His heart leapt to see the lights of the train station up ahead, gleaming like a beacon in the storm. For a moment he forgot his discomfort and pressed forward faster than ever. The train's whistle echoed out over the noise, urging him to hurry. Another loud sound rang out, but this one made his heart sink. It was a gunshot, and pretty close by him too. He did not take the time to turn around and look, for he could already see the train starting to move. Once again, he was painfully aware of the stitch in his side and the breathing problems. Now, however, he had bigger fish to fry.

"Get back here, you foolish bastard!" someone behind him shouted. From the tone of voice, the owner was livid. Another gunshot followed the shout, and this time the man actually felt the bullet whiz past his ear. Thankfully, the train was now only a few feet away. Still running like the devil was at his heels, he ran through the station and straight towards the moving train. In one brazen leap, he sailed towards the railing of the caboose and grabbed hold of a bar with his free hand. No sooner had he pulled himself onto the deck when he felt a sharp pain on his left leg. Judging by the two shots he'd just heard, the hunter had got him in the leg, while the other shot just narrowly missed his arm. Now crippled, he hastily jerked open the door to the carriage and pulled himself in. Right before he closed the door, he could hear the man yell "We'll find you, Anthony Laturia, we'll find you…" But the rest, if any, was drowned out by the thunder.

"I hear you," he said after shutting the door tight. Once the door was closed he allowed himself a moan of pain as he lowered himself onto an abandoned seat in the carriage. He then lifted up his pant leg and gingerly examined the injury. Luck must have been with him that night, for the bullet had only grazed the skin. Anthony did not believe in luck, and instead owed it to the man's poor aim. Still, it bled something awful and smarted quite a bit, so he pulled out an extra handkerchief from the bag and mopped up the injury a bit. He would have to wait until he got to the next town. With hands covered in scarlet blood, he was unable to take out the piece of paper with the information he needed, but by now he had everything he needed memorized. The one name he needed to know upon arriving at this destination: Hohenheim.

The next morning, Hohenheim awoke rather earlier than usual, finding that he was unable to go back to sleep. Sighing, he pulled himself out of bed and began to get dressed for the day. Maybe he would take an early breakfast out on the veranda while paging through the book that Dante had given him. He was silently hoping that he would stay awake long enough to read anything. What with dreams of Dante haunting his mind and the huge storm taking place outside, it was no wonder he got so little sleep. Still, the excitement of what the book could contain was enough to get him out of his room and downstairs. A few of the servants were awake, and a stout old woman by the title Mrs. Aramish fetched him some breakfast.

He opened the double doors that led out to the back porch and was immediately met by a wonderful smell. It was the smell of fresh air right after a heavy rainfall. So rich and inspiring was this marvelous scent that Hohenheim breathed as deeply as he could, allowing it to fill him up as much as it could. He suddenly felt wide awake and refreshed, as though he had just gotten more than three hours of sleep. Another feeling the smell brought him was inspiration. He now felt oblidged to read the book and learn everything he could from its contents. Brimming with his new found confidence, he brought a chair from inside that was not wet with the previous rain and set it in front of the table.

"Here is you breakfast, sir," Mrs. Aramish said in a kindly voice, setting the tray before him on the wet table.

"Thank you very much," he said as politely as he could, for he already had the book open and was distracted with starting to read it. As soon as she was gone, he flipped to the page with a corner bent down. This was the particular one he and Dante had found covered in blood. However, thanks to Dante's brilliant use of alchemy, the page was now back to normal and legible. Here, Hohenheim began his serious reading. Of course, other pages of the book could hold other important secrets as well, but for now, this was the main focus. Human Transmutation; the question he had been longing to find an answer to for so long was now right in front of him. More excited than he had ever been in his entire life, Hohenheim allowed his eyes to fly across the page, his insides practically leaping for joy at what he was learning.

Meanwhile, Anthony Laturia was sleeping soundly on one of the seats in the train with his injured leg crusted with dry blood and propped up on the seat in front of him. Sunlight leaked through the window and onto his face, caressing him with its warm glow, but still he slept on. The only thing that could have awoken this man after his long night of running was the loud whistle of a train. It was this, exactly, that woke him now, for the train was nearing its destination and the whistle rang out to tell this to all passengers. He sat up so fast that his leg dropped to the floor in a limp fashion, causing him to wince and then curse in pain. Deciding this was no time for obscenities he scrambled across the aisle to one of the windows and looked outside. Sure enough, there was his destination lying across the grassy hills and plains ahead of him.

"At last," he breathed as he climbed carefully to his feet and hoisted the bag over his shoulder "at last I can finally meet with you, sir Hohenheim."

A/N: Was it long enough? That's always my problem with chapters: are they long or detailed enough. Please let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: For once, I have nothing to say o.o

CHAPTER NINE

Dante's finger slowly tapped itself on the window as she stood there, still in her night dress, looking out into the yard. The various flowers and bushes were laden down with water from the previous storm and it seemed as though the trees had also suffered harsh treatment from the weather. Still, the sun rose to a clear sky, spreading its pale golden light across the earth and setting everything it touched ablaze with the glow. Such a warm sight it seemed, yet Dante looked upon it with her freezing eyes. She had no room in her heart to allow such beauty to sink in. At least, not at the moment anyway.

"Forgive me, my lady," her maid apologized for what felt like the hundredth time. She was new to their household, and because of her brazen knowledge of how things worked, she was extremely nervous. Today this attitude had cost Dante her breakfast tea as well as the use of her bed. The maid, in a rush to please her mistress, stumbled and knocked the tea all over the bed. Now she was hastily gathering the dirty sheets together to wash, face tinged pink from embarrassment.

"Never mind, just get it cleaned!" Dante snapped, tearing away from the window to get dressed. "After you clean that mess up, take those sheets down to the laundry room and have Mrs. Miren wash them up. Then I want you to go down to the library, second floor, first hallway and down to your left. Clean it up, the layer of dust must be an inch thick..." As she relayed these orders to the frantic young maid, Dante coolly dressed herself. She was a shrewd young woman perfectly capable of calmly ordering others around and all the while taking care of herself.

"Something needs to be done about Bernadette's nerves," Dante announced as she arrived in the dining hall and seated herself across from her mother and father.

"What happened?" her mother asked sharply. For a moment, Dante paused and assessed the situation. True, Bernadette had given her morning an annoying turn, but no one deserved the wrath that her mother could dish out.

"Nothing at all," was the cool reply "she just seems very nervous, and if it keeps up who knows what episodes could befall. I propose one of the elder servants takes her under their wing until she gets used to things around here."

"As you wish, daughter, I will talk to someone immediately," said her father. Dante sighed and turned away from the table. _Bernadette, you had better be grateful for this_, was all that ran through her thoughts.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Worn by pain and fatigue, Anthony finally stumbled into the gate on Hohenheim's property. Grasping the worn iron for support, he gazed into the large estate before him. Just by looking at it he could already tell that there was little or no chance of him getting into the place unseen. However, having previous experience with things like this, he was now rather practiced at being unobtrusive. After examining every inch of what he was up against, a plan began to shape in his mind. He took a moment to relay it over and over in his head then without hesitation climbed carefully up the fence. It wasn't until he jumped to the ground and felt a searing pain that he remembered his injured leg. Swearing quietly to himself, he then darted half limping across the lawn and to the first tree he saw. From there, he would make his way carefully to the gardens and then somehow find a way into the house.

Hohenheim scratched out his last sentence with a quill then wrote a more accurate one in its place. He still could not believe how much information he was obtaining from this book. All these years of wondering and educated guesses when the answers were only down the lane in an aged library. Still not pleased with what he had written, he hastily scratched at the parchment once more. He was about to write more when he realized that he was out of room on the parchment. Groaning, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He had been writing for nearly two hours, and was so stiff that he dreaded the thought of walking all the way upstairs for more parchment. Deciding he'd done enough, his hands folded a page of the book down then snapped it shut.

"Break time," he announced to no one in particular as he stood up and stretched. By now the beautiful morning he had been blessed with was starting to turn into a day humid from the rain. Just as he was about to go inside for more parchment, a movement out of the corner of his eye froze him in his place. Hohenheim was by no means a cowardly man, but animals in the garden peeved him for some reason, especially the raccoons. He had been unfortunate as a boy to get on the bad side of a passing raccoon, and the thing had hissed menacingly at him until he darted inside. Since then, he had always despised the little beasts, and was prone to grabbing the nearest heavy object and pelting it at the creature. On this occasion, the nearest thing he could find was the book, and so he would have to settle for it. Upon turned in the direction he saw it, he found himself looking across at a slender man gesturing to him.

"Hohenheim!" came the notorious shrill call of his mother. The man heard it too and looked questioningly at Hohenheim.

It should be known that when put under pressure his vocabulary went wild in a sense and picked out a random word for the situation. In this case, the first word that came into his head was what he decided to shout out to the man. "Rendezvous! Rendezvous!"

"Pardon?" the man asked, being unfamiliar with the word.

Hohenheim nearly hit himself in the head for such a poor word choice. He forced his brain to come up with something better while pointing urgently to the large bush a few feet away from the man. "Congregate! Assemble! Converge! Meet up!" Finally, the man nodded in understanding and darted behind it just as Hohenheim's parents walked out onto the veranda.

"What on earth were you babbling about, boy?" his father demanded sharply.

"I had a bad cough," he answered, cursing himself inwardly for the extreme stupidity of this statement.

"We have come to inform you that Lady Dante and her parents will be arriving shortly, that is all," his mother explained before turning up her nose and strutting back into the house with her husband. Hohenheim glared after them, wishing he had any parents but those two monsters. He waited until they were safely out of sight before walking over to the bush.

"Forgive me for my poor communication," he said to the man with a small bow of his head.

"Never mind, never mind," the man shook his head repeatedly and grasped Hohenheim's hands. "Hohenheim Avaris, my lord, at last we meet!"

A/N: Please review!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Again, forgive me for the wait, I just never seem to find a time when I want to write a new chapter x.x Please review, you've all helped me so much by doing so!

CHAPTER TEN

"I beg your pardon?" Hohenheim questioned, eyebrows raised high as the newcomer grasped his hands.

"Lord Hohenheim Avaris," Anthony repeated breathlessly, still not letting go "I have traveled many leagues and faced many a danger to bring myself before you today. Please, if your lordship will permit it, may I humbly ask for some medicine before I explain everything? You see, I took a bullet to the leg during my last escape. Nothing too serious, it merely grazed it, but I fear without proper treatment infections will spread into the wound."

"Y-Yes, yes of course," he replied, altogether stunned by this plethora of news spouted out rather hastily by the man who had not even introduced himself properly. However, one look at the blood stained cloths around the man's leg was enough to make him swallow all questions and immediately run in for medicine. The man had seated himself on the ground, waving away his host's protests for him to sit on a chair, and leaned back with his eyes closed as if a great rush of relief had just run through him. Hohenheim was back within minutes with a small bottle containing medicinal herbs for injuries, and some fresh cloths for the wound.

"Thank you ever so much," Anthony said over and over as Hohenheim took it upon himself to dress the injury. "You do not know how great an honor it is to be aided by the great Lord Hohenheim."

"Pray forgive me, but I believe you are sorely mistaken about that," he interjected finally after the first aid was complete.

"Are you not Hohenheim Avaris? The great alchemist known throughout our time for his persistent research on the legendary Philosopher's Stone?"

"My name is Hohenheim, but my surname is not Avaris. I have no surname, for my parents forbid me from using it. It was the worst thing they could do without disowning me entirely. I am, however, an alchemist, so perhaps I can help you with something?"

This information made Anthony's expression turn from joyous and hopeful to absolute shock in seconds. "So...you mean to say that you are not the great alchemist? That I traveled all this way for naught, risking life and limb at every stop?"

"How did you even find me in the first place?" He watched as the man reached in his bag and brought forth a worn piece of parchment that looked as though it had been torn out of a book. Anthony carefully smoothed it out and handed it to Hohenheim.

"Hohenheim Avaris is very well known in the world of alchemy, but unfortunately I could find no information regarding where he lived or where his current location was. I began to ask around during my travels, for the great alchemist Hohenheim, and as soon as I heard of a Hohenheim living here, I made for this town straight away." Here he paused and gingerly put weight on his hurt leg.

Hohenheim scanned the parchment carefully with his brow furrowed and his mind working rapidly. How could people living outside of the town possibly know about his alchemy when even those living in his own house knew nothing about it? What's more, the date of birth and date of death for Hohenheim Avaris were written across the bottom of the page. He pointed this out to Anthony, who looked as though he was cursing himself inwardly. "How on earth could you miss it?" he questioned.

"I-I am really not sure," was the reply, strained by the internal conflict now taking place inside the young man. "I could have sworn that I have read this page over and over...perhaps it was on the account of my hopes were so high of finding him that I somehow managed to convince myself that he is still alive."

"Also, how is it that people living in distant towns know about my alchemy? There are precious few here that are even trusted with that information." His thoughts immediately went to Dante. Did she know who Hohenheim Avaris was?

"Perhaps the Hohenheim I was looking for also resided in this town for some time. Are you, by any chance, related to him, or maybe your parents named you after him?"

"My doubts of that are very high," he answered shrewdly, positive that his parents would never had named him after an alchemist. "Nevertheless, it is possible he lived in this town. I will have to look into it sometime. Please, might I inquire your name my good sir?"

"Yes...yes of course, I am Anthony Laturia of the town called Hallows." Hohenheim had the impression that the man was quite distracted. He guessed it was out of embarrassment and disappointment for not finding the right man, and what's more, being completely unaware that the man he sought was already dead.

"Hallows? That is certainly quite a distance from here. Did you cover all of it on foot?"

"No, I took the train whenever possible, or if I was lucky I could catch a ride with someone who was going by carriage or wagon in this direction."

"Tell me, why is it that you sought Hohenheim Avaris?" Anthony did not answer straight away. He diverted his gaze to the bandages on his leg, even childishly toying with the cloth as if buying time while he decided on something.

"A secret," he murmured after a while, causing Hohenheim to jump slightly "a terrible secret that I was entrusted with."

"And you were told to pass on this secret to Hohenheim Avaris?"

"No no, you have it all wrong. After a while this secret began to haunt me so much that I knew it had to be passed on to the right person, as I was told to do. Therefore, I came across in my reading the great alchemist Hohenheim and somewhere in my mind I knew he was the one to tell. But now..." He stopped and looked up with wide eyes at the man before him. "Now I do not know if I...I..."

"You can tell me the secret, my good sir I assure you that I am trustworthy enough to keep it." Silence plagued the still afternoon air as the two men sat in the grass behind the bush, each waiting for the other to speak.

"Hohenheim?" a new voice called out, breaking the silence and startling the two. Hohenheim, however, was the first to recover, and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized the voice.

"Over here, Dante!" he called, standing up and walking out from behind the bush. A smile graced his features as he watched her, beautiful as always in a stunning yellow dress, run towards him. "Forgive me I forgot that you would be coming here today. Please, come here for there is someone I would like you to meet."

"Who is it?" she asked as he led her around the bush, a small frown forming on her brow. Anthony, who was attempting to climb to his feet, looked up at Dante and bowed his head to her politely. They stared at each other for a few moments before she cried out, to Hohenheim's great surprise, "Anthony!"

"Dante?" Anthony questioned in shock. "Is that you? I can hardly believe...after all these years..." Apparently forgetting his pain, he stood up hastily and rushed to her, grasping her hands and staring at her with a look of utmost joy on his face.

"Your family moved all the way to Hallows. Why on earth are you here again?" inquired Dante, looking both pleased as well as shocked to see him.

"I came here on my own to seek someone...I had forgotten that you also lived here."

Hohenheim looked from one to the other, altogether quite baffled at why the two knew each other. "Er...Dante? How do you know Anthony?" he asked finally.

"Anthony's brother Jonathon Laturia was my fiancee before he died a few years back," she explained, a touch of pain in her voice. "After Jonathon's death, his family moved to Hallows in order to ease their sufferings of losing him. Anthony was to be the best man at our wedding, and we rather became friends."

"You had a fiancee?" He felt somewhat disheartened by what she had just told him.

"Yes," she answered, turning slightly pink. "He was the first of many. My parents were constantly changing them, whether I wanted them to or not.

"Poor girl, I never quite agreed with your parents' methods," Anthony said with a frown "trying to marry off their daughter so young..."

"I was not the first, nor the last young woman who was to be married off at so young an age," Dante pointed out "believe it or not, I have heard of girls getting married even younger than I was. But never mind all that, what I would like to know is why you are here again, and in such poor condition." She gestured at his bandage-covered leg, which was bent slightly from the weight he was putting on it.

"We should discuss this elsewhere, my dear parents could come out at any moment," Hohenheim announced, glancing at the open doors on the veranda. "Let us go to the library, we can talk privately there. Anthony, can you make it on your injured leg?"

"Yes, if it is not too far, I just might." He took a practice step, wincing slightly when he put weight on the leg. Hohenheim put an arm around him for support and gestured wordlessly to Dante for her to follow them. He was not sure whether to be angry at her or not for failing to tell him of her previous fiancees. Still, now was not the time to argue. Anthony's announcement that he had a secret roused his interest and curiosity and he was eager for him to share it. Questioning Dante could come later, right now Anthony's secret beat out any other thoughts in his head.

At the library, the threesome headed for the alchemy section and settled themselves down onto the cushioned wooden chairs scattered throughout the room. Anthony took a deep breath and then said what Hohenheim had been waiting in anticipation for him to say: "And now, I shall entrust the two of you with the secret entrusted to me by my elder brother, Jonathon." The arrival of Dante seemed to have boosted his confidence, for he no longer seemed so anxious about the secret he was keeping. Two pairs of eyes watched as he reached into his traveling bag and pulled out a large book. Three hearts beat fast as the book was opened, and a folded sheet of parchment was removed and carefully unfolded. One hand reached out to receive the sheet that its owner was being given. Hohenheim brought the paper close to him and began to read.

As he read further and further, his eyes widened and his lips parted. "This..."

A/N: OMG CLIFFHANGER!! Yeah, I'm gonna stop it here, this chapter's getting kinda long. Please let me know how you like it!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Forgive me for the wait I got distracted from writing for a while. Sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

CHAPTER 11

"This..." Hohenheim swallowed the many emotions that were building up a solid barrier in his throat and tore his eyes away from the paper to look up at Anthony. "This is the...the..."

"The instructions on how to go about making the legendary Philosopher's Stone," the man answered quietly, not meeting Hohenheim's gaze but instead staring down at his clenched hands.

"But why-how did-there is no way he could have found this out, these instructions-" Hohenheim's words were simply pouring out his mouth for the soul purpose of keeping the barrier down. His mind was racing as he studied this information over and over. Of course, he had come across this term during his research, but all that was said insisted that alchemists not even think of trying to make one. Impossible and only a myth is what they said. Yet here before him were the clear instructions.

"My brother studied alchemy for nearly all of his life, I am sure he could have found this out easily." Anthony should have looked at least a bit proud of his brother's great achievement, but the look on his face merely implied that he was about to be sick. "All those correspondents he had...days locked up in his room studying..."

"I cannot believe this," Dante spoke finally, just as flummoxed as Hohenheim. "All those times he mentioned Hohenheim Avaris and his studies...I never knew this was what the two of them were working on."

"His brother knew Hohenheim Avaris?" Hohenheim cried incredulously, looking away from Anthony and the paper to stare in surprise at her.

"Did he?" Anthony inquired, displaying the same emotions. Dante started, as though she had just come out of a trance and looked from one man to the other. After a while she nodded slowly.

"Yes, they were friends for quite some time, unless I am mistaken," she explained. "They met at some sort of conference or gathering is what he told me."

"Why did you not tell me before your brother knew him? Rather if you had this information, why even seek me out in the first place?" Hohenheim questioned Anthony heatedly.

"The reason being that I knew nothing of this myself," was the cool answer. "Brother never shared that with me, he had no need to...he was dying after all the last time we spoke. Hohenheim Avaris most likely had little or nothing to do with what he wanted me to do. And furthermore, if the dates are correct from that page of my brother's journal I showed you, Hohenheim passed away two years before my brother."

"That is true," Dante agreed "After we had gotten to know one another, he explained to me that his dear friend in the study of alchemy had died a little over a year before we met."

"I recall him telling me one day that he was going to a funeral," Anthony said thoughtfully. "He was depressed for so long that our parents worried greatly for his health. It was because of that they sought a fiancee for him, hoping that once married he would be happy again. You saved him then, Dante. After meeting you he was happier than he had ever been since the day of his friend's death."

Dante closed her eyes. "I am glad he was, and may his soul rest in eternal peace. All the same, if he truly felt that way for me, then why did he not tell me all of this?"

"Think about it, Dante, do you honestly believe he would tell you something as horrible as this? Read what the ingredients for the stone are: _human lives_. Would you really have wanted to know that your lover was studying about such things?"

"No," she answered in a barely audible voice. Hohenheim could tell that she was suffering a severe internal battle. Of what, he had no notion whatsoever.

"What was the last thing your brother ever said to you?" Hohenheim asked, desperate to direct his attention away from Dante.

Anthony gave him a grim smile. "My brother always was a kind man. He could cheer up any person, no matter how sad or angry they were." Out of the corner of his eye, Hohenheim saw Dante nod once. "After he had given me the paper and entrusted me with the secret as well as his journal, I began to cry. It was the hardest I had ever cried in my lifetime. I clutched the journal to my chest and wept like a lost child. Brother, lying on his death bed, reached up his arm and touched my cheek gently.

'Why the tears, little brother?' he asked me. 'I do not want you to die, you are too precious to me...I still need you' I answered him. He simply laughed, and it was at that my tears stopped. I realized then that my brother was not afraid of death at all. 'You are also precious to me as well, brother. So are mother and father, Dante, all our friends...I have no wish to leave any of you. But I have no choice, do I now? Besides, has it not been said that death is the next great adventure in life?' This brought me little comfort, so he took my hand in his. Looking into my eyes he gave me a sad smile and whispered 'We cannot live forever, Anthony, we cannot live forever. For someone to live longer than they are meant to, it is just wrong. Death is a way of life, and there are times when we should not interfere with it. Always remember this, my precious brother; you must not try and live forever.'" Anthony paused, and his two companions watched in silence as he brushed tears away gently.

"He was gone within an hour after this," he murmured quietly. "You know the rest of what happened," he added to Dante. "Yes," she responded in the same quiet tone.

"I am sorry," Hohenheim said. He could feel the atmosphere of pain filling up the room, and winced as it began to take hold of him. The thought of death always had this effect on him, like a shadow constantly looming over him, waiting for him to think about it so that it could work its dark power within him. Hohenheim was afraid to die.

"There must be a reason why he seemed so keen for me to remember those words," said Anthony, breaking through the painful atmosphere as though with an invisible sword. "Perhaps he foresaw something in my future that I did not."

"Or he sought to comfort you," Hohenheim interjected. "From what you said it sounded like that was his aim." He then turned to Dante. "What were his final words to you?"

"I would prefer that information stays in my heart," she answered, her tone somewhat cold. Hohenheim sensed her aggravation and nodded.

"Forgive me, I should not have asked something so personal." Thrown into discomfort once more, he began to pour over the parchment again. The creation of a homunculus seemed like a simple project next to the Philosopher's Stone. Human Lives. That was what it took to create one. He could believe it however, seeing as all alchemists seemed so opposed to the idea. They were indirectly warning other alchemists about the price.

"What do you say, Hohenheim?" Dante asked suddenly. "Shall we make one?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "Could you really live with yourself if you did that, Dante? Took away so many human lives simply in the name of science?"

"What if..." and her tone suddenly became dark, almost cunning. "What if they were lives that are about to vanish anyway?" Anthony's jaw dropped as he gazed at her with that look implying sickness on his face.

"You mean people who are already dying?" he asked, his voice quiet and bursting with shock. He took a leaf out of Anthony's book and began to feel somewhat sick at the idea.

"Well, why not? Did Jonathon not say we should not interfere with death? If the people are about to die anyway, it will not matter how it happens. In fact, it may even relieve them of their sufferings."

"He did not mean that human lives should be manipulated for alchemy," Anthony pointed out, the look on his face somewhat indignant. "He must have been implying that we should not try to fight or cheat death in any way, it will only turn out for the worst."

"The Philosopher's Stone would be an achievement that any alchemist would give up their very life to have," Dante shot back calmly. "If you two do not wish to partake in the process, I will do it myself." She stood up and looked from one of them to the other. It was even at times like this that Hohenheim could not help but to admire her beauty and intelligence, even if she was in a rather sadistic mood.

"I will do it," he said to Dante and Anthony's surprise as well as his own. "If we are in this science together then I cannot possibly let you go at it alone." Dante gave him a grateful smile. The two of them then looked over at Anthony, who was massaging his forehead in either aggravation or deep thought.

"Mind you, this may not turn out for the better," he muttered at last. "I will help, but only because I made a promise to my brother." His eyes landed upon Dante. "I promised him that no matter what happened to him, I would always look after you and ensure your safety."

"That would be my task as well," Hohenheim growled, suddenly irritated at the other man. "But if you want to help us, we shall accept. After all, we need all the help with this that is available. Come let us go back now, shall we?"

"Anthony, you should stay at our home," said Dante. "I fear that Hohenheim's parents would be very displeased to have a stranger in their home."

"If you insist." Hohenheim felt another prick of annoyance. He feared it to be jealousy. Shaking this thought out of his mind, he strode out of the library without another word to either of them.

"Hohenheim," Dante started after him, but Anthony caught her by the hand and spun her around to face him.

"You know this is wrong, do you not?" he asked, holding her hand firmly in his. "The Philosopher's Stone is not just another experiment in alchemy...it is a serious thing."

Dante gave him a winning smile and gently pulled her hand away. "I know what I am doing, Anthony, no need to worry." And with that she turned and exited after Hohenheim.

Anthony paused with his hand on the knob and sighed. "There is a need to worry, Dante...because it is you."

A/N: I hope that was lengthy and descriptive enough. Please leave me reviews, and I'll try and update ASAP!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Forgive me if this turns out to be yet another filler chapter, I'm trying to come up with ways to make the story move and fillers are there to help me think. Anyway, please review and let me know what you think!

CHAPTER TWELVE

The gentle lullaby of the music box stole through the air with an invisible yet powerful aura. Dante sat before it, elbows propped up on the desk and eyes glazed over with some memory that no one but her could possibly remember. It was as though the music itself had her locked away in an unbreakable trance.

"Jonathon," she murmured almost inaudibly over the sedative lullaby. Her eyes closed slowly as the memory worked its way into the foremost of her mind.

_Hooves clopped noisily over fallen leaves and branches as the horse and rider sped their way anxiously through the forest. A hood covered the rider's head and concealed their face while they spurred the horse to go faster. "I will not let it happen...never!" the rider cried out over the noise. Her voice was desperate and cracked with emotion. Pulling the horse to a sudden stop in front of a stream she then released the reigns and buried her face into her hands, sobbing quietly to herself._

_"Lady?" came a voice to her immediate left, causing her to jump and nearly fall off the horse. "Dear lady, whatever troubles you? Are you lost? Hurt?"_

_The girl wiped her eyes with the cloak and shook her head. "No no, I am alright," she said to the speaker. She glanced to the left and saw that it was a young man, quite a bit older than herself, standing about ten feet away and holding the reigns of his own horse. He was tall, well-built, and handsome with short brown hair and electric blue eyes. Curious and attracted by his looks, she climbed down off her horse and curtseyed briefly to him. He, in turn, bowed._

_"Pray I may ask you what the source of your weeping is, dear one?" he asked, his tone gentle with kindness and concern._

_"I would gladly answer, sir, save for the warning of my heart. 'Do not trust a stranger in the forest with such secrets,' it tells me, and I willingly agree."_

_"Forgive me, that should very well have come before any such questions. My name is Jonathon. Jonathon Laturia." He bowed once more to her. "And just so that I may not speak any of my own secrets to a stranger, what is your name?"_

_"I am Dante, but no latter name shall I reveal, for I have broken myself away from my family." The man's appearance had driven momentarily the torments she suffered from her mind, but its return hit her harder than a blow to the stomach. She felt her eyes burn once more with tears and turned her face swiftly away so that Jonathon would not see._

_"I understand," he responded gently, noticing the resumption of her tears. Tactful as he was, his curiosity won over all sense that he had. "What happened?"_

_"Oh they have gone and forced me into marriage with some man I have never met before!" she cried, trying in vain to hold back her tears. "Did they ask me if I wanted to be married? Of course not! For heaven's sake I am not even fourteen yet! How could I possibly get married so young? And to a man who is, for all I know, several years my senior. It is preposterous!" Her eyes glanced back to Jonathon, who stood there listening politely to her frustrated rampage. "Forgive me …" she murmured, blushing slightly at having blown off the handle like that._

_"It is rather funny," Jonathon responded "for that is the reason I am in these woods as well. My parents are forcing me to get married to a young woman who I have not met. We are, you could say, in the same boat?"_

_Dante gaped at him and her tears did not fall as though they were as stunned in place as she. "Is it really true?"_

_"I am afraid so. Hopefully I will be able to get far enough away from my home by the time my parents realize I am missing." Sighing, he dropped down to a sitting position on the ground next to the stream. "This is not the first time I have run away though, so they might have been expecting it." _

_"Your parents must be awfully hard on you then," Dante sympathized._

_"No, they just seem to be very fond of running my life. Making decisions for me without my consent...sending people to follow me wherever I go...attempting to choose a bride for me..." His eyes blankly stared out into the wood. Dante watched as his hand reached absently into his pocket and brought out a small wooden box. Still looking as though his mind was far away from his body, he opened it. Immediately a gentle tune of music emanated from the box and echoed through the woods. Time appeared to have stopped at that moment while the music was playing, for everything else seemed to be standing still. Birds ceased to chirp, cicadas were cut short in their buzzing, and the stream's babble died down. Even the breeze which ruffled the leaves of the treetops was terminated by the music. Both humans closed their eyes and allowed the one sound to dominate their minds._

_"Remarkable, is it not?" Jonathon spoke after a while, closing the lid shut with a small snap. In the absence of music, the life of the forest resumed itself. "It was my grandmother's...she always told me that it was magical, but I never believed her until now. After all, magic is merely a science that cannot be proven true."_

_"Magic is not real," said Dante after she shook herself from the dazed state the music had left her in. "If a science cannot be proven true then it is a lie, nothing more."_

_"Are you a scholar of the sciences?" _

_"I am, if you must know, learned in the art of...of alchemy." Her form erected indignantly while she said this, but her voice faltered when she spoke of her study._

_Jonathon, however, gave her a wide grin. "Call it a coincidence once more if you will, but the same goes for me as well. I too study and learn the arts of alchemy."_

_"It would seem," said Dante, hardly able to contain her surprise and excitement "that we have much more in common than meets the eye."_

The present Dante blinked once from her trance as the memory slowly came to an end. The rest, she remembered, was her and Jonathon discussing alchemy before the two finally decided to return home. It was a few days after this event that her next memory occurred.

_"Who could have known?"_

_"Who indeed?" Dante and Jonathon stood across from each other in the crowded ballroom, staring with looks of disbelief on their faces._

_"All that time we spent talking that day in the woods...and neither of us realized that we were betrothed." Jonathon sighed and shook his head. "I should have put two and two together then. It would have saved me quite a bit of shock."_

_"So what do we do now?" Dante asked, arms folded across her chest and looking utterly perplexed. "I highly doubt that there is any possible way that we could get out of this..."_

_"I agree." People in very formal clothing moved about the room, paying no attention to the two teenagers standing there in thought. "Well...I have no qualms about marrying you. What say you?"_

_"It would seem I have no choice, though I am only slightly troubled by agreeing to the marriage."_

_"Why is that?"_

_"You are quite a few years my senior, dear Jonathon. Is that not enough to trouble a girl in any way?"_

_Smiling, Jonathon moved closer and took her hands in his. "For a lady such as yourself, I would be anything you wanted me to be. If you want a good husband who will never hurt you and always be your protector, I will do it."_

_Dante returned the smile. "Then consider us engaged."_

_FOUR MONTHS LATER_

_"What a beautiful day!" Dante exclaimed as she and Jonathon walked hand in hand through the forest. "Simply amazing...and in January at that!"_

_"There is beauty, even in the bitter cold," Jonathon whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her back that had nothing to do with the weather._

_"I hope the day of our wedding is this lovely, though not as cold," she said rather hastily._

_"By May you will not even remember the cold, I promise you that. Hallows always has the most perfect Springs after all."_

_"Tell me again...about our wedding day," Dante urged, shaking his arm gently._

_"The sun will shine brightly down upon the immaculate white altar," he said, smiling at her enthusiasm. "Everyone there will be donned in their finest clothing, and flowers of white and red shall engulf the place and monopolize the archway. The bride shall enter, wearing the most beautiful white dress...so beautiful it could have been sewn by angels. And every person present will be struck with wonder by her beauty. She will make her way gracefully down the aisle towards her waiting soon to be husband, who has never seen a woman more lovely than she..."_

_"And the two shall be married and share a kiss of true love there at the altar before going on to live happily forever more with each other," Dante finished for him._

_"Not just forever more, my darling, but for all eternity," Jonathon corrected as he kissed her hand. Laughing in pure happiness, Dante began to run through the woods, pulling Jonathon along with her. They stopped when they came to the stream, and the young man drew his fiance to him in a loving embrace._

_"Jonathon?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"I just want you to know...I love you more than anything."_

_"I love you as well, Dante."_

_"Will you promise me something?"_

_"Anything, my darling."_

_Smiling, Dante buried her face into his chest. "Never leave me."_

_TWO MONTHS LATER_

_"How does that adjustment feel there, Lady Dante?" one of the maid servants asked as she completed sewing up the back of Dante's wedding dress._

_"Much better, thank you. The chest still feels a bit tight, however. Do you think there is anything you can do about it?"_

_"Certainly, just give me a moment here while I sew up this sleeve-"_

_"Oh drat! I dropped the needle. Martha, could you just lift up your foot for a moment so that I may search for it-"_

_"The hem needs to be redone. Lady Dante, if you could please just stay still one moment-"_

_"Oooh this is going to turn out so lovely!" Five maids worked busily on the dress while Dante stood their among them, waiting patiently as they moved about._

_"I do hope so...you all have gone through so much trouble with it after all," said Dante._

_"Just a few more things need to be done before we are complete! Now my lady, if you could just lift you arm slightly-"_

_"Lady Dante! Lady Dante!" a breathless and anxious voice called from outside the room. Six pairs of eyes leaped up as a young male servant burst through the door, his eyes wide and his expression somewhat pained._

_"What is it, Timothy?" Dante asked, sensing the importance immediately._

_"Lord Jonathon, my lady, he's...he's fallen ill..."_

_ONE WEEK LATER_

_Several candles lit the room with a soft glow, adding on to the feeling of utter sadness that seemed to occupy every corner. On the one bed the room had to offer, Jonathon laid quietly, his handsome face pale and weary and his eyes closed. One could tell simply by looking at him that he was surely on the brink of death. Kneeling on the floor next to the bed, her hands clasped together and eyes closed as though in prayer, was Dante._

_"Please no...please please please no..." she whispered over and over. Shaking her head, her face contorted in pain and she continued her quiet prayer._

_"Dante..." Jonathon's once strong and hearty voice was now weak and barely audible. "Dante I-"_

_"Jonathon please," Dante interrupted, breaking her prayer and taking his hand. She winced at the touch, for it was unnaturally cold. "Please, save your strength."_

_"There is no need to," he murmured "it will be gone soon."_

_"Do not say that!" she cried, tears beginning to fall from her troubled eyes. "They will find a cure for it...all will be well in just a few days-"_

_"My time is not measured in days, but in hours, minutes even." He winced as a dart of pain shot through him and ruptured his breathing. After several moments the pain released him and he resumed his weary demeanor. "This sickness has no cure...it never did. The fault is all mine, I should never have let him-"_

_"It is not your fault," Dante interrupted once more. "The doctors are to blame, for they did not try hard enough to find a cure for you."_

_"No, Dante, do not hold them to the blame. I was foolish with my alchemic experiments...and now I pay for it with my own life...Equivalent Exchange, hm?"_

_"I have told you before, that is only a myth," she said bitterly._

_"It is as real as you and I, believe me." Another surge of pain swept over him and he winced. "Listen to me darling, listen well," he said after the pain had left him. "Never underestimate the power of alchemy. It may seem like a game created for our own amusement...but it is so much more...so very much more. That is why, for your sake, I must warn you against making the same mistake I did." He turned away from her and gazed up at the ceiling. "I tried to do something that went far beyond the power of any human being, and this is what happened to me."_

_"So you did do something to cause this sickness."_

_"Yes. I am afraid I cannot tell you what it is...the secret is too terrible for you to know..."_

_"However, if you do not tell me, how could I avoid making the mistake?"_

_"This secret I left with only one person alive. Only one. He will never give it up unless he feels that the time is right. I trust you, Dante...and I know you will not make the mistake because I am going to have you promise me something."_

_"What is it?" Jonathon's expression hardened, and even in his dying state he held the air of someone regal._

_"You must promise me that you will give up the study of alchemy." _

_Dante's eyes widened in shock and her expression was similar to one who had just been stabbed straight through the heart. "Give...give it up?" she repeated quietly. "I-no, no I cannot. That is simply impossible, I will not do it!"_

_Jonathon sighed and for a moment his expression softened into a smile. "I should have known, you are much too stubborn. If not give it up, then this at the least you must promise me: never take a human life with your science."_

_She stared. "Take a human life? Why would I do that?"_

_"The reason does not matter, for there is absolutely no reason at all, Dante. Human lives are more precious than you could ever imagine. They are not the toys or manipulations of alchemy but real things that would tear up your very soul if you destroyed them. If I could have longer to live, I would atone for my cruel mistakes. Alas, I die with a guilty conscience."_

_"Why is that? Did you kill someone?" She watched as Jonathon suffered through another few moments of pain and felt her heart tearing up inside. Her love, her one and only love, was lying before her on the brink of death and there was nothing she nor anyone else on earth could do to save him. A lump rose in her slender throat and tears burned her eyes. Never before in her lifetime had she felt so helpless like this before._

_"Yes, I did," he answered even weaker than before as the pain subsided. Dante made a small noise in her throat that was something between torment and shock. He lifted his hand and took hers in it. "I tell the truth only because my soul is already stained black with sin. Paradise does not await me when I leave this world, only more suffering and torment in the very pits of hell. I will take my sufferings gladly, for they do not fall upon my soul needlessly."_

_"Do not speak of such things!" cried Dante. The two fell silent for a few moments, Jonathon savoring life and Dante wishing it away. "Please Jonathon...please do not die...do not leave me alone in this cruel world."_

_"Cruel, yes, but even within the cruelty there is a beauty. This beauty is such that nothing, not even sin itself can tarnish. Treasure life, Dante, for it is truly a gift." He winced once more. "My vision grows dim just as the candle of my life flickers a dull light in this world." Dante pressed her forehead to his cold hand. She knew it was coming soon; Jonathon's last moment on earth._

_"Please..." Her voice sounded small and fragile, even childlike._

_"You must be strong now, my love, for the path is now laid before you. To love again will be a difficult thing, but I have faith in you."_

_"I will never love again!" she shouted, gripping the sheets with her free hand._

_"Yes, you will...I know you can do it."_

_"No..." She wanted to scream "I cannot live without you! I would die rather than love someone else!" but her voice just would not work._

_"One last kiss, Dante, is all I ask before I leave this world forever," he murmured. Their eyes met and for a moment Dante saw the bright eyes and face so full of laughter that she had first seen long ago. Carefully, she leaned over him and gently pressed her lips to his._

_"I love you," she murmured through the kiss._

_"I love you," he returned. Tears fell from Dante's eyes as she kissed him, and landed on the forever closed eyes of Jonathon._

"You promised him, I know you did," said a voice from behind the present Dante. Anthony had entered the room while she sat there lost in her memories.

_Snap!_ Her hand closed the lid of the music box as she came back to reality. "So what if I did?" she asked quietly.

"How could you break such a promise to my brother?" he exclaimed, his voice raised in indignance. "Did he really not mean so much to you? It must have all been lies then. You were just playing him all long, were you not? Testing him out to see if he could be worthy of your superior self? That is the truth then, you never loved my brother."

"Silence!" Dante shouted, her voice raised far more than his. She whipped around to face him, her hands balled into fists and her eyes burned with anger as tears poured down her cheeks. "Never say that again! I loved Jonathon more than you could ever know!"

"Then why, why are you going to break this promise?" Anthony shot back.

"Jonathon is dead, it will not matter to him what I do."

"Insulting his memory now, are we? And what about Hohenheim? Is he just another one of your pawns, Dante? Will you use him as you used my brother?" Everything he had just said hit the right nerve. Dante strode across the room to him and slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

"You will never know," she said, her voice low and deadly. "Leave my room at once, or I shall strike you again."

Anthony did not move right away for he was still stunned and in pain from the slap. Slowly her turned and looked her straight in the eyes. "Nor shall you ever know," he whispered. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. The door shut tight behind him. "You will never know," he continued to himself, his back pressed against the door "how much I love you."

Back at Hohenheim's house, the young man stood at his window, looking out into the darkness of his yard. Two dark shadows stood by the gate, one with its hand upon the bar and the other turning away as thought waiting for something. Soon a third figured joined them. The three were still for a few moments before turning and vanishing off into the darkness.

Hohenheim sighed. "They have caught up with him. We must leave soon."

A/N: Ooooh shadows, I wonder who they are? Perhaps we shall find out in chapter 13, but I trust you all shall figure it out sooner than that. Sorry about the wait, the death scene got me stuck since I was never in the mood to type up anything good. I still don't know if it's any good or not...I leave that up to you guys to decide. I'll try and update soon!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: My friend inspired me to write this chapter since he is so very supportive of me and I appreciate him so much ) Plus if I don't type this idea up, I'll forget x.x

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Silent and swift as shadows, three men ran through the streets of the town. They did not speak a word to one another but instead remained focused on their shared destination. Footsteps were a dull echo heard only by the phantom ear as they resonated against the cold stones that covered the earth beneath them. Finally, they stopped across the street from a large building that appeared to be some sort of abandoned warehouse. One of them stepped boldly forward into the street and then stood still as though listening or waiting. After a few moments he made a gesture to his companions and they strode forth to the weather worn door of the warehouse. The man who had stepped forward earlier now took one last look around before knocking twice on the door.

"It's Matthew, we've found them," he murmured. With a dull click, the door slowly opened half an inch. An eye peered out from within the crack, taking in all three figures before allowing the rest of his face to be revealed.

"You're late," he growled as they passed by him into the warehouse. "He said one hour, not an hour and a half."

"Watch it, Sam," Matthew sneered back "I need not remind you who the chief uses as a messenger and who he uses as a gate keeper." Sam spat at the men's feet before he resumed his position by the door, mumbling angrily to himself.

"He could snap your head off in one go," one of Matthew's companions whispered as soon as they were out of earshot of the door guardian.

"Yeah, I've heard tell that that one is much stronger than he looks to be," said the other.

"Hell will freeze over before I'm wary of old Sam," snapped Matthew, not at all pleased with the way things were going. Sure, putting Sam down was one of his favorite pass times, but he was late, and that truly boded ill. Plus, hearing his own companions try to warn him against an empty threat did not raise his spirits at all.

"Well, Matthew? What've you got for me?" a voice called from across the warehouse, echoing menacingly against the walls of the empty building.

"They're here. Our little prisoner proved useful after all," he announced. A match was struck against the side of a table and went on to light the lamp that sat there. The soft glow landed upon a man with stringy brown hair and a coarse beard. There was no reflection of light in his cold dark eyes.

"Bring 'im out," the man ordered. Two men acted at the same time and brought forth from the darkness a young man, bound by the hands and feet. As the boy's anxious eyes darted from the two men on either side of him to the menacing one before him, he began to quake in anxiety. The deep cut that ran on the side of his face as well as the ones on his arms and legs still pained him.

"I-I told you e-everything I know, I sw-swear it," he stuttered.

"He's lying, Dimitri, I'll bet he knows more," said one of the boy's sentries.

"I am the one who will decide that," Dimitri answered quietly. His hand went to his pocket and drew out a knife with a long blade that gleamed like fire in the lamp's light. The young man's pupils dilated in fear as he watched the man's fingers stroke the blade lovingly as though it were a pet kitten. "Yes, you've seen this before, haven't you? And no doubt you remember the taste of pain as it sears into your flesh."

"I swear it...I swear..." the boy choked, his voice strained.

"The less you talk of such pointless things the less pain you will feel," was the cool reply from Dimitri. "Just a few more questions for you, young Timothy, and then you can go home safely to mummy." Several men cackled and sneered as their victim swallowed hard. Grinning like an asylum patient, Dimitri strode forward and ran the flat of the blade along Timothy's throat. The boy closed his eyes and prayed a silent prayer. "The visitor you said is now residing in the house of your masters...what is his name?"

"A-Anthony," choked the victim. A cry of pain escaped his lips immediately afterwards as the knife slashed his shoulder.

"His full name, you dolt," hissed the tormentor.

"Anthony...Laturia."

"Yes, it is him," the man said to himself, wiping the blood off the knife with his finger. "Where did he come from?"

"They said the town called..." Timothy swallowed and after giving his captors a defeated looked murmured "Hallows."

"Ah yes, the devil thought he could elude us there. How very wrong he was in assuming so. Tell me, what do your Lady Dante and Lord Anthony converse about when they are together?"

"W-well there has been a lot of talk about...about a man named Jonathon, and some things about alchemy-" He was cut off by another cut of the knife along his arm. This time he managed to hold back his cries by biting his lower lip.

"Have I not told you before? I want specific details, not ones as simple as 'alchemy.' What of alchemy did they speak?"

"Something...a stone I think, though I cannot remember the name." Timothy braced himself for more pain, but it never came. Dimitri's hand holding the knife had fallen limp at his side and he stared out into space, clearly in deep thought.

"The Philosopher's Stone?" he asked quietly after a minute or so.

"Yes...yes that was the name!" The eyes dilated with fear followed the movements of the fingers grasping the knife. Slowly and absently, the thumb ran across the blade, sometimes pausing at the sharp end as though contemplating if it should go a bit further. It was so silent in the room that even the footfalls of a mouse could have been heard. The longer the silence held, the thicker the air grew with tension. Timothy wanted desperately to say something...anything to break that silence. He was practically being driven insane by it, but if he said anything at all he knew perfectly well that the cold blade would pay a visit to his skin once more. Even the other men in the room were suffering from the unusual silence of their leader. They too feared the dangerous mechanical wheels that ran his mind and ordered death quick as the devil.

"Gentlemen," Dimitri said after a while, his voice breaking the silence like a large stone into a still lake. Several men even started at the sound of his voice. Timothy's heart almost stopped momentarily. "Take this runt back to where you found him. He is of no further use to me."

"But sir, wouldn't it be better to just kill the whelp?" asked one of the braver henchmen. "Secrets die with the one who keeps them."

Dimitri struck like a viper, spinning around and grabbing the man's throat with one strong hand. "You know perfectly well that murder does not bode well in a town such as this. We've seen it before, haven't we Reginald?"

"Y-Yessir...s-s-sorry" the man choked, his face already started to turn a deep purple. The hand released him, but not the least bit gently.

"The boy will tell no one," Dimitri announced to the rest of the crowd. "If he does, we will know...if he does, I will personally pay him a little visit in his dreams." As he said this last bit, he drove the tip of the knife slowly into Timothy's arm. The boy winced, but allowed no sound to escape his dry lips. "Don't try to be brave, boy, there's no one to impress. You're just a coward...a bloody coward..."

At this, the boy stirred and for a moment he was aroused with a fiery indignance that contradicted his situation entirely. "I may be a coward...but I'm no murderer," he whispered, just loud enough for Dimitri to hear. His ounce of bravery earned him a blow to the back of the neck, which caused him to black out immediately.

"Put him back where you found him," the leader instructed, his tone livid. "Keep an eye on him though...the boy may have the courage for cheek, but he won't tell this secret. He knows what'll happen. Keep close watch on the girl too, I don't want her looking too closely into his disappearance. She's a sharp one, from what I hear tell." Wanting to be left alone for the time being, he sent the men off and, without another word to the other bystanders, exited the room warehouse through the back door.

I'm no murderer...

The boy's voice echoed a dull resonance, like a metronome, into the man's mind. He recalled another young man saying the same thing, long ago. A young man named Dimitri, who swore he would never kill anything...yet not even a year after that he committed his first murder...

A/N: Oh the horrors of fillers...I'm sorry, I had to get these antagonists introduced. Sorry if you were expecting more...I'm tired though, me wants sleep T.T Please review!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Alright, I'm going to try and make some chapters from now on that'll actually move the story along, though this one may very well end up somewhat of a filler. Someone questioned the language I'm using in here, there's a reason for that. It's the 1500's and since I've no clue how they talked back then, I try to make their speech formal. Yes, even Dante. Bear in mind that in the flashback she was about thirteen and so she's going to be a LOT different as an innocent teenager than a 400-something year old. Please bear with me, I don't like writing formal speech any more than you like reading it, but to go along with the timeline of the story it has to be done. In later chapters when there are time changes I'll make their speech less formal. Ok, enough talk, time to start the chapter!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hohenheim tugged at his collar a bit, having nothing better to do. He tapped his foot against the leg of the chair on which he sat. Slow tapping at a monotonous tone soon changed to a quicker pace which echoed loudly in the empty hallway. Fingers abandoned the collar in favor of massaging the forehead in slow circles, silently hoping to relieve the internal ache of his head. At the sound of heels clicking briskly against the floor further down the hallway, all tapping and massaging ceased and Hohenheim hastily sat up straight. An older woman donned in a white dress worn by those of the medical profession walked briskly past him. She gave him a brief nod and a smile before retreating into the room directly across from where he was sitting.

Disappointment overtook him, though not for the first time that day, and he once again resumed the anxious posture and motions. Sighing, he pulled a silver pocket watch out and glanced at the time. The afternoon was wearing on in a slow and dreary manner. He had been sitting there waiting for nearly two hours now.

"Damn it all!" he said to himself, burying his face in his hands. He was growing restless, his head ached like no other, and he had absolutely no idea what was going on. One of Dante's servants had visited his house about three hours back, saying there was an emergency and that Dante requested his presence immediately. Of course he had left immediately, but upon arriving was told to wait in the spot he sat now for Dante. The servant had left without a word and now Hohenheim was burning with questions and anxiety. Four times during the past two hours, female servants wearing the medical garb went past him and through the door across the hallway. He had tried more than once to press his ear to the door and gain information that way, but all he could hear were unintelligible murmurs. Moral decency was all that prevented him from grabbing the doorknob and wrenching it open. All he could do now was be patient and try to ignore the pain in his head.

Finally, just when the temptation of bursting through the door was reaching its peak, something somewhat different happened. At first, he just heard the small running footsteps just as he had heard all the others. He chose to ignore it, however, not wanting to get his hopes up once more only to have them shattered. Then he heard the first voice he had heard during his whole waiting period.

"Timmy! Timmy! Are you alright? Please, God, please let him be fine!" Hearing the Lord's name spoken was what made Hohenheim's ears perk up more than anything. The voice belonged to a small, fair-haired child, no older than eight, with large blue eyes streaming with tears. She wore a simple dress just like all younger servant girls would wear, though she was cleaner than those of lesser households. Hohenheim found himself on his feet, most likely out of reflex, and rushed over to stop the girl from opening the door. He wasn't quite sure why he did it. Perhaps he had been so used to not disturbing the door in any way that he felt no one else should either.

"You should stay out here, I cannot let you go inside," he said to her once she had stopped in front of him.

She shook her head and tears flung off her face and splashed to the floor. "No no no, I have to go in! I must! My big brother-" Her voice faltered as she choked on a sob. Still shaking her head, she attempted to charge past Hohenheim to the door. He caught her with one arm and struggled to hold her back.

"Please, I really think you should stay out here," he whispered in what he hoped was a calming tone.

"But big brother-I have to-he needs-" She continued to struggle against him, but now it was only half-hearted. It wasn't long before she fell limp in his arms, apparently worn out from crying and struggling. Not knowing what else to do, Hohenheim hugged her gently.

"Calm down, it will be alright." His tone was awkward seeing as he had never comforted a child before and was not exactly sure how to go about doing it. His parents never once attempted to comfort him in all his life, so he was quite unfamiliar with the whole idea. "What troubles you?"

"My-my big brother Timothy...h-he's been hurt badly," the little girl explained, still sobbing quietly in his arms. "F-for a while now he's been missing, but-but he was found this morning in the garden. I-I only just found out and..." She clutched Hohenheim's shirt and took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself down. Wiping her eyes on the back of her dark blue dress sleeve, she looked up at him. Her blue eyes shone with desperation and determination. "Please...I just want to see him."

"Then let us go in to see him together," he answered, giving her a gentle smile and taking her hand in his. Relieved to be helping the girl out as well as having an excuse to open the door, Hohenheim got to his feet and lead her to the door. He could not bring himself to open it, so instead he knocked. One of the medical women who had walked by earlier answered.

"Ah, so you are Hohenheim then?" she said, frowning a bit at him. "Hmmm...Had I realized it sooner I would have let you in the room when I first saw you." As Hohenheim mentally beat his head against the wall, the woman turned to the child. "And you...the boy's sister?"

"Yes. I'm Sophie."

"Very well, you may both come in and see him. He is recovering from the medicinal herbs, so take care not to tire him out." She stepped aside and allowed the two to pass into the room. Sophie let go of Hohenheim's hand and rushed to her brother's side. He lay at the far end of the room on a flat, makeshift bed. The boy was as fair-haired as his little sister, but pale from exhaustion with a weary expression on his face. Cuts decorated his face, the worst one on the left, and he sported a small bruise on his forehead.

"Timmy!" Sophie gasped, grasping his hand and kissing it.

His eyes blinked slowly open at the sound of her voice and the feel of her hand on his. "Sophie?" he said in a half whisper. He turned his head towards her and smiled. "Hullo, you're crying...why's that?"

"You know why! You've been gone for so long...I'm so happy that you're home again!"

"Don't tell me you were worried," he said in the small quiet voice. Chuckling, he took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm you're big brother...you know I'll always be alright." Sophie managed a small laugh despite her tears and pressed her forehead to his hand.

"Please don't leave us ever again," she whispered. Timothy smiled and closing his eyes turned his head back to its former position.

"Hohenheim, a word if you would not mind it," Dante's voice called from behind him. Jumping slightly at her sudden appearance, he nodded and followed her out of the room and back into the hallway. She did not turn and face him immediately, but instead stood there looking down at the floor. "Why were you so late in coming? Did you not get my summons until an hour ago?"

"No, I-" He paused, contemplating whether he should tell her his embarrassing mistake. "I waited outside the door for two hours hoping someone would let me in...Please, forgive me," he added lamely.

"I see," was all she said. Sighing, she turned around to face him. "Timothy was found unconscious in the garden this morning. He was badly wounded...by a knife it seems, at least, that is what the medics have told us. Hohenheim...he was missing for two days. The time he went missing was about three days after Jonathon's arrival. This was no coincidence. I can assure you of that."

"What are you implying? And why are three days considered a coincidence?" Dante might have been very well educated, but in this case Hohenheim was completely lost with her reasoning.

"Think about it; Jonathon told us that his last stop was the town of Burmington, and there he was forced to jump onto a train headed for where we are now. It took him three days to get here."

The light clicked on in Hohenheim's mind. "The men who are after him...they captured Timothy and tortured him for information."

"Yes. Most likely they figured us to be simple-minded fools who would not see past their _clever_ methods of kidnapping. The only reason they did not kill him must have been because a murder would draw much more attention than a few cuts and bruises. They have been here for about two or three days now, waiting and planning out their next step. If I am not mistaken, they intend to go for Jonathon next...he is the one with the secret, after all."

Hohenheim recalled the three shadows from a few nights ago, sneaking around the gates of his home. His thoughts then were no different from the ones now. "We have to leave, soon. If we do not, more people will suffer, just like Timothy."

"So? Let them suffer, I will not be driven out of my home by a group of cowards." Dante said this in a tone of complete obstinance, something Hohenheim both feared and loved about her. Still, her apathy towards others made him somewhat uncomfortable.

True, there weren't very many people in town that Hohenheim cared about. A brief image of Louisa surrounded by a red glow that gave her beautiful face an almost demented twist passed suddenly through his mind. Shaking it away, he returned to the present. Dante might have been the one he was in love with, but in this case the one in charge was going to be himself, the man. Taking Dante firmly by the shoulders, he looked her in the eyes and said "I will not be the cause of anyone else's pain."

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? And just where do you think we shall flee to, hm? What place in this cruel world would we be able to live in peace, untroubled by suffering and those who hunt us?"

"I know of a town," said Anthony's voice from behind them. His face passed into the sunlight of the large hallway window, and they could see that it was a firm expression that occupied his face. "It is many miles from here, and we may reach it by train if we travel for about three days. Risembool I think was the name. From all that I have heard it is a beautiful countryside where the folk keep to themselves and live far apart so that no secrets are spent."

"Risembool, hm?" He did not care what the name, only if it would keep them safe for a while.

"Sounds like a backwater little place to me," Dante scoffed, her expression not interested in the least "I refuse to reduce myself to such living conditions. A _countryside_? Really now-"

"Even so, that 'backwater little place' may very well be the solution to our problems," Hohenheim interjected, giving Dante a look that clearly showed her who was taking the stand here.

Not used to having her opinions shot down, the young woman stared from one man to the other, her mouth slightly open and her expression highly affronted. Finally, she made a small gesture with her hand that signaled a reluctant defeat. "Fine, we shall reside there for a few months until a better plan is hatched. Do not expect me to embrace this idea with open arms, for I am not fond of open space where one can be easily targeted. Nevertheless, I shall go along with it if you two see fit." She turned from them and began to walk away down the long hall. "I am going to retire to my quarters now. If we are going to be leaving soon, there is much to attend to." Her voice faded out at the last sentence, and in moments she was gone.

Anthony turned to Hohenheim. "You really do agree with this?"

"We have no other choice now, do we? Risembool may be our only hope for the moment until some new opportunity arises. Besides, I could not live with myself if another innocent is harmed on our account."

Silence fell between the two men as they stood there in the empty hall, facing each other but not meeting eyes. Then- "She really means a lot to you, does she not?"

Hohenheim turned away from the tapestry he had been examining with a little too much emphasis to look at Anthony. "What...who?" he asked, inwardly kicking himself at how stupid that sounded.

"Dante...how much does she mean to you?"

"I-I am not quite sure of that myself. When we are together, I feel sort of awkward...warm in the face too as though I have a fever. Perhaps you could say that I have fallen in love with her?"

Anthony began to walk past Hohenheim, but when he was level with him, he laid a hand on the man's shoulder and gripped it tightly. Then he leaned in close to his ear, almost close enough for his lips to touch it, and whispered "You will not beat me."

Hohenheim's back stiffened. Yes, that was definitely a challenge. "I will not be beaten either," he said back in a tone just as menacing as Anthony's. The fingers gripped him even tighter.

"Your love cannot possibly compete with mine...I would give up my very soul for Dante's happiness." With one last contraction of the hand on the shoulder, his grip loosened and Anthony continued to walk away.

Hohenheim's hand massaged his aching should gently. As soon as the door behind him clicked shut, signaling Anthony's departure from the hall, Hohenheim allowed himself a small chuckle. "How interesting...we shall see, Mr. Laturia. We shall see just what the future holds in store for us."

A/N: Uh-oh, Hoho papa has some competition X I tried to answer a bunch of questions in this chapter, but if there are still some things you don't understand, let me know. I really don't want to leave you all in the dark. Please review and let me know how you like it!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Ack, sorry for the wait guys, I haven't been giving this story much thought in a while. But I'm not giving it up, it just takes a while for me to commit myself to do something. Please review, it motivates me!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It had all been leading up to this. He knew it had, though he chose to push it out of his mind in favor of other things. Still, it came at him hard, as hard as a blow to the stomach, complete with the same effects. The momentary silence while you decipher what has just happened to you followed closely by the signals to your brain, all jumbled together so that for a while you are lost. True, he could have braced himself for it, had he heeded the warning of his senses, but being rather daft when it came to feelings, he did not.

"Dante and I are getting married," he said to himself again, as though saying it would shake him out of his stupor of shock. His parents had informed him no more than an hour ago, and here he sat, staring blankly at the wall. "Married..."

Any day he had been expecting his parents to bring him a new girl, one even richer than Dante, to court. Perhaps this was the feeling he chose to follow, for this was not the first woman his parents had tried to force him to. From the beginning of his teenage years on they had introduced him to girl after girl, always abandoning the old to bring in the new. Dante was, to Hohenheim, just another girl that they would soon discard, though to him she was much more than that. Sighing, he averted his attention from the wall to the window looking out onto the lawn. Speak of the devil. Dante was walking across the lawn, looking absolutely stunning in a midnight blue dress with the sun shining down on her. To Hohenheim, she appeared to be glowing almost.

The door opened and Louisa walked in, carrying a small pile of freshly laundered shirts. "...keep telling her to put those plants in the sunlight, otherwise they'll die, but does she listen? Oh no, of course not, the servant is never right. I know nothing, I do..." She seemed to ranting to herself and, judging by the flush in her cheeks, it had been going on for quite some time now. Hohenheim knew her well enough to know that in this kind of mood it was best to use soft words save he provoke the storm.

"You are looking beautiful today, dear Louisa," he said, turning away from the window to look at her. Indeed he always thought her beautiful, but days like this were the best times to speak it.

"Save the flattery for Lady Dante, my Lord, she'll be here soon enough," Louisa responded, her tone slightly less hostile than before. Hohenheim smiled. She was mollified, even if it wasn't so apparent. Getting up from his chair, he stroked her hair briefly and affectionately then strode out of the room and down to meet his now-fiance Dante.

She was waiting for him on a chair in the parlor, twisting a flower between her fingers. Her eyes were fixed upon it but tore away to him when he entered. A smile broke her crimson lips. "All the arrangements are made," she said.

"For the wedding? Dash it all, I knew mother and father would barely give me time to think on this." Sinking into a chair opposite her he lifted his head to the ceiling and massaged his forehead.

"Wedding? My dear Hohenheim, there is not going to be a wedding." He removed his hand from his forehead to gaze at her in confusion. "The arrangements for our departure to Risembool are what I meant, my love. Anthony and I have it all planned out, and we leave in three days."

"So soon?"

"Yes. The said marriage takes place in a little more than a week, and we must leave before that." Seeing his expression, she shook her head and took his hand. "It is not that I do not wish to marry you. We must leave this city as soon as we can, and if we wait until after the marriage who knows what will happen. No, we will leave in three days so that our enemies, whatever they are planning, can not carry out their obligations."

Hohenheim felt his heart soar. So she did want to marry him after all. Then the moment was popped like a bubble and his heart dropped like a rock. "You and Anthony planned this together, did you? Surely it was he who suggested you leave before the wedding."

She gave him a strange look. "Yes...as a matter of fact, he did. Why, what does it matter?"

"Nothing." Just the thought of Dante..._his_ Dante together with Anthony and planning an escape was enough to make him want to throw something. The man's words still echoed in his mind. _"You will not beat me...Your love cannot possibly compete with mine..." Damn him._

"Are you jealous of Anthony? Do you believe he will take me away from you?" she asked. He felt her soft hand take his chin and lift his head up gently. The usually shrewd and insensitive look on her face had been replaced by an expression completely new to both Hohenheim and herself. Next thing he knew, she was kissing him. Her lips so soft and plush were firmly gripping his, silently vowing to never let go. Hohenheim, not quite used to this but instinctively knowing what to do, kissed her back, matching the grip of her lips with his own vows. She was on him now, kneeling on his lap with her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to his body and all the while still kissing her. Their lips were entwined in a sensual sort of dance that aroused both parties almost to the breaking point. And then from a knock on the door it was over. They broke apart, not looking at each other, and Dante returned to her chair, hands in her lap.

"Here is your tea, my Lord and Lady," said Louisa as she bustled in with the tea tray, completely oblivious to what she had just interrupted.

"Set it here, Louisa," Hohenheim said gesturing, though this information was superfluous to the maid for there was only one table in the room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Hohenheim turned to Dante once more. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Dante returned, her face slightly pink.

"The kiss...why all of a sudden?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss my fiance?" she asked, sticking her chin out in defiance. "If I recall correctly, you seemed to be responding with much more vigor than I was. I could very well ask the same of you."

"You started it," he muttered, aware of how childish it sounded but having nothing else to say that would fit the situation better.

She laughed and tossed her curls behind her head. "Yes, I did indeed. Alright, my love then I will have to confess my reason to you. Do not feel intimidated by Anthony. He will not come between us. My feelings for you are too great to be won over by his affections. In any case, he is the brother of the man I once loved so greatly. I simply could not come to love him as well without driving the knife deeper."

"Very well, I forgive you," Hohenheim sighed in defeat.

"Forgive me? What did I do?" she asked indignantly.

He looked up at her, his eyes full of laughter and mischief. "For getting me all excited for nothing."

She returned the mischievous look. "Oh I see…well, I suppose planning can be put off for a while."

"That it can, my dear." Grinning, he took her hand and led her over to the small sofa in the parlor.

Back at Dante's home, the little blonde girl called Sophie walked through the gardens, clutching the hand of her recovering brother Timothy.

"You haven't been telling the truth, Timmy, I know you haven't," the little girl reprimanded, looking up at her brother with great blue eyes.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, not returning her gaze but instead staring out into the yard.

"Because I can tell when people lie, and you were lying when you told them a wild animal attacked you. Please, brother, won't you tell me what really happened?"

Timothy sighed. "You shouldn't know."

"I need to know, I'm your only family so you gotta tell me things like this. Besides, I might be able to help you somehow."

Smiling, he knelt down to her level and took her face in his hands. Kissing her forehead he murmured "Some truths are best left in silence."

She frowned. "That's not true and you know it. When papa was alive he always said that a non-revealed truth is just a lie. You don't want to be a liar, do you big brother?"

As he looked at his little sister, tears began to well up in his eyes. "Sophie…" He pulled his little sister close to him in a tight embrace. "Sophie…if I tell you…will you promise never to say anything about it?"

Sophie nodded reluctantly. Her brother's tears had disturbed her greatly. "Yes, brother…I'll never tell."

Smiling in spite of himself, he brought his lips close to her ear and whispered "I was captured by bad men out to get Lord Anthony. They told me never to speak of this to anyone, otherwise they'll return to kill me. I would gladly tell the secret if the only price would be my life, but there's something else at stake here, and I cannot bear to lose it."

"What is it?" the child questioned.

Anthony pulled away to give his sister a teary smile. He pushed a few strands of blonde hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. "A very special, very precious gift." Sophie, not quite taking the hint but proud of her brother's bravery, threw her arms around his neck.

"I may vomit," Matthew murmured to his companion as they watched the scene from behind a nearby bush.

"I agree," said the other, turning away from the 'disgusting' sight. "But he's gone and told someone. Now what? Do we kill them both? Or let's kill the boy and bring the girl back to Dimitri. She's a pretty little thing, ain't she?"

"Dimitri doesn't lay with children, you ought to know that you bleeding idiot," he answered sharply cuffing the other man's ear. "But I'd like a little girl to own. She could be like a pet or something."

"Well let's go and tell him first anyway before we make a move. I don't want to get a beating for being rash. C'mon, I'm getting sick of this little love feast."

"Agreed." And with that, the two malicious criminals slunk out of the garden and back to their hideout.

A/N: Not long enough? Too much of a filler? Let me know, I'll try to move the plot along a bit more in the next chapter. Thanks for reading! (PS: I do not support child raping, these men are just evil and would think such things)


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Gaah sorry about such a long wait, guys! I honestly was stuck on what to write next, but then I thought of this, so here it is. Please review!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It hadn't always been a boarded up and weathered old building, but at one time a grand mansion. The sun still reflection on the clear glass of the windows, shattered as they were, and cast spots of gold upon the grand yet worn floors within. A yard abundant with weeds and scratched relentlessly by over grown tree roots had at least a shadow of its former beauty. A single purple flower grew among the mass and shone like a star amidst darkness. Next to the cellar doors with their paint chipping away from the many rains they'd endured, a small wagon sat. Once red in color, it now lay still and rusted brown with disuse. Clearly, this house had stood empty for over a hundred years.

To the man who stood before it, none of this was revealed to him. He saw only the former grandeur and smelled the aroma of flowers from its garden. The laugh of a child was all he heard over the creaks and moans of the old structure. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he watched the ghost of a golden-haired boy run across the yard to his shiny red wagon. There was brightness on his fair face as he placed a small dog into the wagon and pulled it around like a chariot. The puppy yapped a faint echo while the ghosts of the boy's parents looked on, their expressions nothing short of loving. Wind blew these images away and gently ruffled the man's hair. The moment was gone. He bowed his head and brought a hand to his eyes to suppress the never ending tears.

A train whistle blew, signaling to the three travelers that it was time to go. Hohenheim, Dante, and Anthony snatched up their bags and hastily made their way to it. Dante pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket as they ran.

"Have we packed everything?" she breathed.

"I believe so. You did pick up the groceries on the list, right Anthony?" Hohenheim asked his companion.

"Yes. And you remembered to pack all your books, correct?" was the response.

"Right. Anything else you can think of, Dante?"

"No. If I am not mistaken, we are all ready to leave." Nothing more was spoken as they approached their train. Hohenheim wordlessly handed over their tickets to the square-jawed man waiting at the door. He took them without question and stepped aside so that they could get on board. They made their way down the car and chose a compartment at the very end for their own. It wasn't until they were seated with their luggage tucked safely into the upper storage space and the train was going at a good pace that they all let out sighs of relief.

"I cannot believe that I am finally leaving that place," murmured Hohenheim, watching his former home town become nothing but a small speck behind him.

"You really wanted an escape from there," said Anthony, looking hard at his rival.

"Yes. I lived long enough in that hell. I am happy to have it behind me and the whole world ahead at last."

Dante smiled and put her hand over his. "We can finally be free to live our lives, Hohenheim," she said, her voice full of restrained excitement. He returned the smile and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Anthony looked away pointedly. It was clear who was not going to enjoy the trip.

"I remember when we first met, you told me how you had always been a prisoner in your own home," said Hohenheim, ignoring Anthony though quite aware of his annoyance and enjoying it. "I am happy that you are finally free along with me."

"There is the matter of what must happen when we arrive in Risembool," the other young man interjected, interrupting their moment. "Houses are quite hard to come by, so we must find some sort of place to-" He was interrupted by a book being thrown hard into his lap. After a short gasp of surprise, he looked over angrily at Hohenheim. "I beg your pardon!"

"Start studying," was the cool reply. Hohenheim held up his own book and Dante followed suit with hers.

"I am afraid I do not follow you."

"We can come up with the supplies enough easy enough," Dante explained "and through alchemy, we will be able to build it in a matter of minutes. Therefore, on the way to Risembool we should all be studying on how to do this."

"That book has some good tips in it on how to create structures," said Hohenheim, nodding at the book in Anthony's lap. The young man narrowed his eyes, but picked up the book and began to pour over it. Hours passed, and all that could be heard in the compartment was the flipping of pages and the rattling of the train's wheels on the tracks. Occasionally, Dante and Hohenheim would look up at each other and smile, but they had to do this warily so as not to raise the chagrin of Anthony. The fact that Dante would look at him and not Anthony made Hohenheim's heart soar with pride though he would not gloat. After all, they still needed him and his information if they were to get any where with their goal.

_The Philosopher's Stone_, he thought, flipping a page of the book without really thinking about it. _If we could just find a way to make it…maybe without having to use human lives then the possibilities are endless. Nature may forbid it, but I am willing to go so far as to defy nature._ He looked over at Dante. She too looked up and their eyes locked. _We will both make it, and whatever hardships come with it, we will bear the burdens together._ As though she were thinking the same things, Dante nodded. Smiling, he returned his gaze to the book. And I will marry her…

Meanwhile, back at the old warehouse in the town they had just put behind them, Dimitri was pacing back and fourth in his office. Letters and notes adorned the walls and random things such as empty bullet shells and old bottles once containing liquor were scattered about the floor. A painting hung on the wall of a man and woman, two young men, and a little girl sitting on her father's knee. Occasionally, he would stop and look at this painting, perhaps to tap the face of on of the boys or bring his finger gently across the face of the child. All the while one thought raced through his mind. They've left…they've left…

"S-sir?" a man outside the door question timidly.

His pacing came to a halt. "What do you want, Adolfo?" he spat.

"We-we have a request to capture the little girl…you know the one…the sister of the b-"

"I know which little girl! For the last time, no! She is of no use to us at the moment, so tell those damn bastards to wait!" He had been putting it off. The capture of the little girl, that is. True, she would be of great use to them if they wanted to lure the boy out for questioning. However, he seriously doubted that the boy had anything useful to them. Still, there was the slight chance he had overheard them talking about where they were headed…His hand went once again to the painting and he touched the face of the little girl. "Looks like I'll have to break even more promises, won't I?" he muttered. The door slammed behind him as he bolted out of the room.

The last rays of the sleepy sun peaked through the blinds and cast light on the portrait. Their faces were all shone in the red gold light, especially the child's. One face that remained in the shadows was the young man on the right, whose expression was unreadable.

A/N: Ok, that's enough for now, it's 12:50 AM, g'night folks!


End file.
